The Godfather
by star-eye
Summary: John and Mary Watson are having a baby! And the question on the minds of Lestrade, Sherlock, and Mycroft is: who's going to be the godfather? No matter who it is, this little babe has three uncles who already adore him/her and are prepared to teach them the important things in life. A series of drabbles in no particular order, no slash, there may be mild language later.
1. The Baby (newborn)

**Author's disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story except for the godchild. All rights go to BBC, Moffat, Gattiss, the usual people.**

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"Oi Sherlock, do you have enough stuff there?" DI Gregory Lestrade chuckled as he caught sight of the consulting detective, loaded down with several bags of stuffed animals and fleecy soft blankets.

"I was unsure what would be appropriate," Sherlock Holmes sniffed, eyeing the officer with his usual critical eye.

"You're attempting to bribe your way in as godfather is what you mean," Lestrade accused, self-consciously shifting the three-foot teddy bear that he had bought for the newest Watson. It had been almost a year since John's marriage to Mary Morstan, and while at first it had been strange allowing this new person into the close-knit (insane and dysfunctional) family that made up the Baker Street Bunch, Mary had quickly proven herself a wonderful woman. She had managed to not only capture John's heart, but earn Sherlock's respect and approval, as well as the awe of nearly every member of New Scotland Yard. But now she was in the hospital, she and John expecting the arrival of their first child. Tensions were high and uncertainty was running rampant. No one knew what gender the newest Watson was, or even what names John and Mary were considering. But the worry that ran in the forefront of the minds of the men closest to John and Mary Watson would be who would have the distinction of being singled out as the child's godfather.

"I have no reason to resort to bribes. I was the best man at the wedding," Sherlock insisted.

"Yeah, but who would John and Mary trust with their kid?" Lestrade interrupted.

"You mean their daughter."

"Huh?"

"I observed Mary during her pregnancy. She clearly is having a daughter."

"And what do you know about having kids?" Lestrade accused.

"I observed."

"Nuh uh, takes more than that," Lestrade insisted stubbornly. "Just to prove a point, I'm telling you that Mary's going to have a boy. Little John Jr."

Sherlock scoffed.

"Even if John and Mary _were_ to have a son, they would never be so cruel as to give their son such a name."

"What, little J.J.? Perfectly good name if you ask me."

"No Lestrade," Sherlock groaned in a pained voice. "If John were to have a son he would name him Hamish."

"Oh really smart one? Well what about this daughter that they're supposedly having? What's the name going to be?"

"No information to go off of at the moment, so no theories exist."

"You're not even going to guess?"

"I _never_ guess. I simply observe."

"Are you two quite finished?" a manicured voice drolled from the other end of the hallway. Lestrade and Sherlock spun around, Sherlock's eyes instantly narrowing at the man before him.

"What are _you_ doing here Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded in a disparaging tone.

"Is it not customary to visit one's associates when they have given birth?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, idly swinging his umbrella with one hand while he held a small gift bag with the other. "I simply wish to offer my congratulations and insure that all security processes are in order."

"And weasel in on the off chance that he's the godfather," Lestrade muttered. The DI and consulting detective shared a look. Losing the right of being the new Watson's godfather to the other would be bad enough. Being beaten by Mycroft…unacceptable.

"If you three are done being total gits?"

"John!"

"Hi Sherlock. Lestrade, Mycroft," John nodded and beamed widely at the men in greeting. As one the three relaxed, recognizing from the pure joy pulsating from John that all was well in the Watson world.

"How's Mary doing?" Lestrade asked with polite concern.

"She and the baby are fine," John laughed, a look of delight and wonder seeming to be permanently etched on his face.

"All is well with the room?"

"Perfect. Thank you Mycroft," John said gratefully, truly relieved by the expert care that had been provided for his beloved wife and beautiful new baby.

"Well don't keep us waiting John," Sherlock insisted. "Tell us, how is your offspring?"

"My 'offspring' is beautiful Sherlock. Absolutely perfect," John preened. "Mary sent me out here because one of the nurses told her that there was a crowd starting to wait for us. I had a feeling it'd be you lot. Come on back and meet the newest Watson." John turned to walk back into through the hospital doors and there was a small upheaval behind him as the three fully-grown, professional, sensible(ish) men resorted to no small amount of shoving to be the first to follow him. Mycroft won through what he claimed was supremacy (but really was because of the assistance from his brolly), with Sherlock following thunderously behind him, and Lestrade bringing up the rear and nursing a firmly kicked shin and brolly-battered knee.

Lestrade sighed to himself. He really should have known better than to go against either of the Holmes brothers. Mummy and Daddy Holmes clearly had no sense of teaching either of their offspring the concept of fair play. Or much anything else, for that matter.

"You have been keeping us in suspense for too long John. We really do require details," Mycroft chided as they walked through the hallways to the private room that the elder Holmes had provided.

"I'm surprised that you don't already know Mycroft," John chortled, in too good of a mood to let anything bring him down.

"I do have other things to do besides observe the proceedings of your family, John," Mycroft insisted in an attempt to maintain his precarious dignity.

"What he means is that Mary threatened him if he filmed the birth or hacked the ultrasound records," Sherlock corrected in an undertone.

"What was that _baby brother_?" Mycroft snarled.

"Come on you two, that's no way to act when you're about to meet my godson," Lestrade scolded.

"_Your_?" Mycroft growled.

"Godson?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Is that what you three are on about? What, got some kind of pool going?" John demanded, stopping just outside of Mary Watson's room to turn and glare at the three men.

"Nonsense," Lestrade chuckled nervously.

"Nothing of the sort," Mycroft replied smoothly.

"Honestly John, who do you take us for?" Sherlock demanded with a roll of his eyes.

"Liars, the lot of you. Let's try again, eh? I'm the man who puts up with your insanity on a regular basis, remember? I know exactly what you lot are capable of and I'll have you know that I want no part of it near my little Eleanor!"

"Ha, you see I told you," Sherlock cheered quietly to Lestrade.

"That means no dead or petrified body parts, no guns, _no_ experiments, and those are just the rules that I've come up with so far. I'm sure Mary's already thinking of rules that _are_ to be followed and _not_ ignored," John glared pointedly at Sherlock.

"Are you not going to tell me what I am and am not permitted to do?" Mycroft asked sardonically.

"You're going to spy on us regardless of what we say Mycroft, so I want to know if anyone comes within spitting range of my baby girl."

"A little over-excessive, but easy enough to accomplish," Mycroft smiled in a way that John assumed was meant to be reassuring but really just came off as a cold fish.

"I would never experiment on a baby," Sherlock protested. "Honestly, what sort of man do you take me for?"

"Just stating the ground rules mate. Wanted to be clear with my girl's pseudo-uncles," John explained.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all close so of course we'll be there for her. But have you and Mary picked a godfather yet?" Lestrade asked, setting the teddy down and crossing his arms impatiently.

"We have," John nodded firmly. "And you three are going to respect Mary's and mine decisions on what is best for _our_ daughter."

"Of course," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, even as he silently added the addendum 'so long as it is _me_.'

"I know you too well, Sherlock," John shook his head good-naturedly before glancing over his shoulder to the closed hospital door that held his beautiful and exhausted wife and their precious daughter. "But apparently Mary doesn't. She thinks it would be a great idea if you would be Eleanor's godfather. What do you say mate?"

"Of course John," Sherlock smirked triumphantly, shooting a superior glance towards Mycroft and Lestrade. "It was a simple matter of observation."

"And don't worry mate," Lestrade spoke up, pushing aside his hurt feelings for the sake of protecting John's daughter and Sherlock's goddaughter. "Me and Mr. Holmes the Elder here will keep an eye out for little Eleanor too. Right Mycroft?"

"Naturally," Mycroft replied stiffly, effectively smoothing his ruffled feathers before any emotions could dare to escape. "Now might we see this newest Watson?"

"Right this way gents. Mary, love? We've got some uncles who want to see their niece," John called into the room, knocking gently before entering. Mary positively beamed as her husband walked into the room. A tiny bundle of pink was held securely in her hands, not a limb free from the safety of the swaddling blanket. Only a scrunched up face, still red from her howling entrance into the world could be seen. Bright blue eyes turned curiously to the men now entering the room and a soft whimper could be heard.

John rushed to his wife and daughter's sides in an instant, with one hand gently soothing his daughter while he wrapped the other arm around Mary's shoulders. For a moment the both of them ignored their guests to focus once more on this precious tiny person brought into their lives.

As they watched the Watson family Sherlock, Lestrade, and Mycroft turned to look at one another, a hard glint in their eyes. With no words or formal contract made, a deal was agreed upon. Nothing would happen to this little girl, their newest Watson. Not while any of them were around.


	2. Emergency Contacts (age 5)

**5-year-old Eleanor Watson has a little trouble explaining to her Year 1 teacher just why she has her own special emergency contact.**

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"All right, next we have Eleanor Watson," the Year 1 teacher smiled down at the small group of children seated at her feet.

"Yes Mrs. Twill?"

"Eleanor, what number do you call if there's an emergency?"

"Oh-two-oh, three five three six, twenty-five twelve," little Eleanor Watson replied promptly with the self-confidence of a child who was thoroughly loved. Her answer was quick and precise, clearly having been previously instructed on this matter.

"No, Eleanor, it's nine-nine-nine. Very easy to remember. Let's try again, shall we? What number do you call if there's an emergency?" Mrs. Twill asked with a patient smile. Eleanor frowned.

"I _told _you, oh-two-oh, three five three six, twenty-five twelve! Nine-nine-nine is too slow, and they won't listen to a kid," she pouted, crossing her arms adorably.

"Now, that's not true, the operator is trained to be very polite and helpful to all callers, regardless of age. And our police force is one of the fastest in the world! Where did you hear that they were 'too slow'?" Mrs. Twill asked with a curious tilt of her head.

"Uncle 'Lock. He's really smart and knows everything about everyone just by looking at them!" Eleanor said, her eyes gleaming with the utmost awe and adoration. "He says that when I'm old enough to come to the lab-er-toe-ry with him that he'll teach me how to do it too!" she added, sounding the word out with extreme care.

"The laboratory?"

"Yeah! Uncle 'Lock works with the police. He helps them catch the bad guys and that's how he knows that they're _really_ slow," Eleanor said with a firm nod of her head.

"OK… So who does that number call? The one that you said?" Mrs. Twill asked, silently wondering just what sort of family this Watson girl came from.

"Oh-two-oh, three five three six, twenty-five twelve! It calls my Uncle Myc."

"And why is he better than the police?"

"He works in the gov'r-ment in a minor cap-ac-tee," Eleanor whispered conspiratorially, sounding as though she were quoting someone.

"That doesn't mean he's James Bond, dear. In an emergency you need to call nine-nine-nine."

"But you don't understand! Uncle Myc and Uncle 'Lock said so, and they never agree on anything, so it must be true! And Uncle 'Strade said it was ok, and he's a policeman!"

"How many uncles do you have?" Mrs. Twill asked with a raise of her eyebrows. The imagination that this child was presenting…

"Just three. But they're really cool," Eleanor said eagerly, glancing towards her classmates who were listening with rapt attention. A little girl who had a detective, government official, and a police officer as an uncle? Amazing!

"I'm sure that they are Eleanor, but in an emergency you need to call nine-nine-nine. Do you understand?"

"But my poppa said –"

"Eleanor," Mrs. Twill said warningly.

"But Poppa says call Uncle Myc," Eleanor continued to protest stubbornly.

"Eleanor Watson. I am sure that your father means well, but in an emergency you _must_ call the police. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Mrs. Twill. In an emergency I'll call nine-nine-nine," Eleanor Watson whispered, looking down and biting her lip hard to keep from crying.

Mrs. Twill smiled understandingly at her and continued to quiz the children over the different material they had covered that day. Finally it was three o'clock and time for the children to go greet their parents. The five-year-olds rushed out the door, little Eleanor trailing behind them.

Amidst the usual group of young parents waiting to pick up their charges there was a man with silver hair who perked up the instant he saw the soft blonde curls of his favorite niece.

"Hi Uncle 'Strade," Eleanor said softly, wrapping her arms around his leg.

"What's wrong Little Elle?" DI Gregory Lestrade asked, reaching down and scooping the little girl up into his arms.

"My teacher," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her uncle's neck and squeezing tight. Eleanor Watson was a surprisingly affectionate child when it came to those she held near and dear to her heart, and those who had that happy distinction were always glad to have a hug from the little angel.

Lestrade felt a bubble of anger begin to form in him as he felt his Little Elle begin to shake in his arms, fighting so hard to be strong like her poppa and uncles and not cry when she was clearly upset.

"What did your teacher say to you?"

"She said that Poppa was wrong," Eleanor sniffed. "And that I gotta call the police and not Uncle Myc when I'm in trouble. Poppa wouldn't lie to me, would he Uncle 'Strade?" Eleanor asked, removing her face from the crook between Lestrade's shoulder and neck to look up at her uncle with wide blue eyes.

"Here now, you listen to me Eleanor," Lestrade said firmly. "Your mummy and poppa love you and they want the absolute best in the world for you. I don't care what your teacher says, if you're in trouble you give your Uncle Myc a call and he'll take care of you. But you should also call nine-nine-nine if you can so that _I'll_ know you need help as well. Do you understand me?" he asked gently.

"Yes Uncle 'Strade. Thank you," Eleanor whispered, good mood restored as she beamed at the older man. "Do I get to come with you to the police station today?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope, not today love. Your mum wants you home safe and sound with her. But don't worry, one of these days I'll take you to my office and you can see for yourself just what your Uncle 'Strade does," Lestrade promised.

"You're the best, Uncle 'Strade!" Eleanor proclaimed. Greg smiled, chuckling to himself as he imagined Mycroft's CCTV cameras picking up Eleanor's declaration. Oh to see the look on his face…

Lestrade frowned though as he set Eleanor down and held the car door open for her. As she climbed into her car seat Lestrade pulled out his mobile and dialed an all too familiar number.

"What?" a bored tone inquired as the call was picked up.

"Just got Little Elle from school."

"And?"

"Thought I'd give you a heads up that her teacher's telling her to not call Mycroft in an emergency. Poor tyke's confused as can be."

"I'll take care of it," Sherlock Holmes promised before ending the call. Lestrade chuckled to himself before glancing back at the school. God help the woman once the Holmes brothers were done with her.

The next day at Saint Philomena's a new teacher walked into Eleanor Watson's Year 1 classroom.

"Hello children, I'm your new teacher Miss Babcock. Your old teacher Mrs. Twill was offered a new position at one of our neighboring schools so you won't be seeing her anymore. Now let's see here…how about we do attendance backwards today? Eleanor Watson?"

"Yes Miss Babcock?" the little girl asked, her eyes wide as she stared up at this stranger.

"Hello, dear. Your Uncle Myc says to tell you hello," Miss Babcock smiled warmly. "And he also says that anytime you need him you are to call immediately." Turning to the rest of the class Miss Babcock continued saying, "Nine-nine-nine can come in handy children, but sometimes it is better to listen to our parents and other family members. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Babcock."

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**A/N A huge shout-out, "thank you", "you are amazing" to my best friend and beta laureleaf who had the idea and did a lot of the dialogue for this scene and then told me to have fun and play with it. You are incredible my friend, and to all of my viewers if you ever want to read some fantastic Sherlock fanfic look her up!**


	3. First Dance (age 13) Part 1

John sighed heavily, pacing the floor of 221C Baker Street.

"Do calm down John. You are acting as though you were about to face off with Moran or Moriarty. Ellen is simply preparing for an afterschool outing," Sherlock observed calmly, his eyes never leaving his laptop.

"Oh sure, _you_ can say that. Except that that's not your daughter in there about to go off to her school with a bunch of testosterone-infused, hormone crazy apes all trying to get their hands on her!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Sherlock's right," Lestrade spoke up from over where he was sitting on the couch, discussing the state of the Yard with Mycroft. "Relax, mate. We all went to dances when we were kids, except maybe Sherlock. None of us were animals."

John gave the well-meaning detective inspector a glare and continued his pacing.

"That is _exactly_ what I am afraid of. A teenage Mycroft dancing with my daughter?"

"I refuse to rise to such an idiotic attempt of bait," Mycroft sighed with a roll of his eyes.

"No offense Mycroft, but I don't want some expert manipulator filled with teenage hormones even _looking_ at my daughter, let alone talking to her or dancing with her!"

"I can hardly blame you, Mycroft as a teenager was a ghastly sight," Sherlock chuckled.

"This coming from the boy who traumatized three different girls who deigned to ask you to dinner?" Mycroft shot back, the two Holmes slowly gearing up for yet another one of their infamous sibling battles.

"They were breaking social protocol, I wished to experiment," Sherlock shrugged.

"I don't think now's the time or place lads," Lestrade spoke up, glancing at the look of fury spreading across John's face. "Our Watson's tense enough without you two adding in your schoolyard quibbles."

"No teenage Mycrofts. And _no_ teenage Sherlocks," John declared firmly. "And no offense Lestrade, but I was a 'normal' teenage boy once too."

"Good point, mate. Best lock your daughter up in a tower and keep her there until she's in her forties," Lestrade joked.

"Oh sure, poke fun make jokes. You three don't understand, I swear these women will be the death of me!" John continued.

"How dramatic," Mycroft sighed with a roll of his eyes.

"My daughter, my little girl, your niece was talking about straps vs. no straps!" John bellowed.

"What straps?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"I don't know! That's why I'm worried!" John continued to rant. It was at that moment that Mrs. Hudson chose to appear from the bedroom where she and Mary had been helping Ellie prepare for her first dance.

"Gentlemen," Mrs. Hudson coughed expectantly. "I believe it's customary to stand when in the presence of a lady."

"Our apologies, Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft said smoothly, rising from his seat.

"Oh not me, Mycroft. I'm talking about our little Ellie," Mrs. Hudson practically beamed, looking over her shoulder as Mary stepped out of the room and Ellie followed shyly behind her.

The four men in the room openly stared as the little girl that they had coddled since infancy morphed into a young woman before them.

Gone was the hair pulled back in a practical braid. In it's place were soft waves that gently framed the young blonde's face. Sparkling blue eyes peeped out under a light coating of mascara and eye shadow, all applied by her mother's expert hands. But what caused each gentleman to instinctively reach for his concealed weapons was the dress. A simple, lovely purple number that stopped just at Ellie's knees, showed off her young curves, and had no straps to speak of. For a moment John saw red.

"Mary?" he spoke as though he was being strangled.

"Doesn't our daughter look beautiful, John?" Mary interrupted him before he could continue. She beamed at her daughter before turning back to the gathered group. "Don't you agree _gentlemen_?" Mary asked, and the tone of her voice left little to no doubt in each of their minds at what _exactly_ they would be facing if they did not begin to immediately shower her daughter with compliments.

"Absolutely lovely," Lestrade spoke up quickly.

"Your mother's experience with makeup does you a credit, Ellen," Sherlock said carefully, privately hoping that he had said a Good Thing that wouldn't upset his niece or her mother.

"Divine. You shall stun your classmates with your presence," Mycroft replied smoothly. "Exactly as I would expect from one so noble."

"Thank you everyone," Ellie smiled shyly before turning to her own father who was still staring at her in silence.

"Poppa?"

John looked down at his daughter, watching him with hopeful eyes that clearly spoke of her desperation for his approval. Clearing his throat gruffly he smiled at her.

"You look just as beautiful as your mother," he whispered, lifting his eyes briefly from Ellie's to meet Mary's. She smiled warmly at him, nodding in approval.

"Oh listen to all of us," Mrs. Hudson cooed. "A right proper family, and our little Ellie going to her first dance. Oh to be thirteen again."

"Now that's not fair Mrs. Hudson," Ellie teased. "I'll bet when you were my age all of the boys paid attention to you. You've got to give me and all the other girls my age a chance."

"Oh you," Mrs. Hudson smiled down at her granddaughter in all but blood. "Always teasing this old lady."

"Old is debatable, but you are certainly a lady," Ellie insisted, using all of her natural charm.

"John, Mary, have I told you lately how wonderful your daughter is?" Mrs. Hudson asked, patting Ellie's cheek fondly before smiling at the elder Watsons. John crossed the room to Mary and took her in his arms, the both of them smiling fondly at Mrs. Hudson.

"Only just this morning."

"Well then I'm certainly overdue. You're growing up to be a lady we're all very proud of. Am I right gentlemen?" Mrs. Hudson turned expectantly to the other three.

"Absolutely."

"Obviously."

"Naturally."

Mrs. Hudson nodded firmly once in approval before turning back to Ellie.

"Now I'm sorry my dear, but I don't think I'll be staying until your young man gets here. It was a pleasure helping you get ready, but my hip is starting to act up on me and I need one of my herbal soothers."

"Do you need any help getting to your flat?" Ellie offered instantly to the woman who was a grandmother to her.

"Oh you, such manners," Mrs. Hudson chuckled. "Not sure where you got them with being raised by this lot, but don't you worry about me dearie, I'll be just fine."

"Well all right," Ellie smiled, stepping forward and wrapping the older woman in a hug. "Thank you again for your help. It really meant so much for you to be here. I'll tell you everything the next time we have tea, all right?"

"I look forward to hearing about it. Good night Mary, John, gentlemen," Mrs. Hudson smiled at the room in general before seeing herself out of the flat, Sherlock opening the door for her and exchanging a few quiet words with her that John and Mary didn't quite catch.

"Everything all right there mate?" John asked curiously.

"Perfectly fine," Sherlock smiled smoothly. "Mrs. Hudson was simply passing on her instructions on how to treat Ellen's male escort tonight."

The sound of the front doorbell rang through the flat at that moment and everyone became still.

"That'll be Collin," Ellie smiled in excitement, fussing with her dress for a moment before moving to get the door. Sherlock, Mycroft, and Lestrade jumped to their feet in an instant, imposing themselves between Ellie and the room's exit.

"You wait right here, young lady," Lestrade ordered.

"_We_ shall see to escorting the young man into your presence, Lady Eleanor," Mycroft said smoothly, his smile cold.

"Uncle Myc," Ellie protested. "Not in front of my date!"

John choked on air.

"Sweetie, remember what I said about calling him that in front of your father and uncles?" Mary reminded her child gently.

"Oh right, sorry Dad," Ellie apologized quickly. "But seriously you guys, none of the pet names tonight? Can't you just call me Ellie like Auntie Molly, and Mum and Dad?"

"But you're my Little Elle!" Lestrade protested before going to open the front door.

"Famous chemist," was all that Sherlock would say in response, he and Mycroft moving to follow Lestrade.

"Former queen of the realm," Mycroft topped.

"Hello there, you must be Collin Davis," Lestrade's voice boomed out. Ellie winced in embarrassment as her classmate was all but frog-marched into the living room of her family's flat by Lestrade. Mycroft and Sherlock flanked Lestrade, for once not saying a word and instead putting all of their remarkable minds' prowess to dissecting this pubescent boy in front of them.

"Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, sir. Hi Ellie. You look great," Collin smiled upon seeing the beautiful girl.

"Thanks Collin. This is my mum and dad," Ellie smiled, gesturing to her parents. Collin frowned in confusion.

"That's your dad? But I thought that he was?" Collin asked, turning to look up at Lestrade who was no longer standing but had taken up residence on the couch and was proceeding to take out his Glock, examining it with great interest. Collin paled at the sight of the weapon and Ellie was quick to speak up and reassure him.

"Oh no, that's my uncle, Detective Inspector Lestrade. He only takes out his weapon when he's thinking about something important or needs to shoot someone," Ellie explained. Collin paled and pulled frantically at the collar of his dress shirt.

"He's just thinking now," Ellie said quickly. "Right Uncle Lestrade?"

"Of course Little Elle," Lestrade smiled beneficially. The moment Eleanor turned away his smile dropped and he glared at Collin who almost wet his pants standing there in the middle of the room.

"And those other two?" Collin asked quietly, glancing nervously towards Mycroft who was standing next to the window and Sherlock who was lurking in the shadows of the room.

"Those are my other uncles," Ellie explained quickly, shooting an anxious glance at her mother, beseeching her help.

"It's lovely to see you again Collin. How's your mum been?" Mary asked politely, stepping up to the occasion with the smooth grace that had first caught John's eye.

"She's fine, Mrs. Watson. She said to tell you hello and to ask when it was you wanted her to bring us back. I mean bring Ellie back, of course. But she wouldn't be leaving me at the dance, I'd be riding back with her…back to your house, that is. But then I'd be going to my house…oh," Collin groaned. Mary smiled and nodded as though nothing was wrong.

"Of course, dear."

"We've discussed it and would appreciate it if your mum would have our girl back by ten. All right Collin?" John asked, easing up a little as he eyed the squirt in front of him. Skinny as a stick with no muscles to speak of, John was confident that Ellie could _easily_ disarm and subdue him if necessary. And if it _did_ prove necessary John would happily shoot the runt and have Sherlock help him hide the body.

"Yes, sir," Collin said quickly, bobbing his head respectfully.

"Great, we'll be back by ten and now we really should be going. Your mom's waiting for us, right?" Ellie asked, eager to get Collin out of her house before her uncles did anything to embarrass her even more.

"Now, now Eleanor, Mrs. Davis looks quite comfortable outside, I'm sure she wouldn't mind waiting a little longer."

Too late.

"Uncle Myc…" Ellie started to protest, but Sherlock interrupted her.

"Not to worry Ellen, we're just wanting be better acquainted with your young man," Sherlock smiled winningly. Ellie's heart sank a little. She recognized that look on her uncle's face all too well. It had delighted her as a child whenever he had deduced her or whenever he had allowed her to watch as he deduced others. Now though she knew all too well what those deductions could do to people. Such as already terrified first dates…

"Ellen?" Collin glanced at Ellie with confusion.

"Uncle Sherlock's nickname for me," Ellie sighed.

"Uncle…Sherlock? As in Sherlock Holmes? Your uncle is Sherlock Holmes?" Collin gaped.

"Well, yeah," Ellie frowned, surprised by his reaction. "And my dad's John Watson. This isn't news, Collin."

"Oh but it is," Mycroft smiled, moving from his place at the window to begin walking around Collin slowly, Sherlock falling into step with him as they slowly circled their prey.

"Collin had no idea about your familial ties," Mycroft continued.

"He knew that Watson was not a common name, but he never made the connection. Foolish of him, really," Sherlock sniffed.

"He wanted to believe you were _normal_ just like him," Mycroft added ruthlessly.

"Although why _he_ should call himself normal when he only stopped wetting the bed, hmm, two years ago? Collin, Collin, Collin," Sherlock shook his head with mock sadness.

"Let us not forget his abysmal math grades. Failing already, hardly a good sign for the future."

"Most likely due to his addiction to playing video games."

"Oh that _will_ ruin his eyesight eventually, how stupid of him."

"Hand-me-down dress shirt."

"Asthmatic mother."

"Two cats."

"No, Sherlock three," Mycroft disputed. "They're kept outside."

"Ah, of course. And then there is the –"

"Okay, that really is enough from the _both_ of you," Ellie interrupted, shoving past the Holmes brothers and pulling her poor date to the doorway.

"I'm so sorry about them, Collin. I swear I have _never_ seen them act like this before," she apologized as she led him out of the room, pausing only to shoot a glare back at her uncles who regarded her coolly, indifferent to her anger with them. They had only been acting with her best interests at heart after all.

"I'll have her back by 10," Collin babbled, the poor boy clearly traumatized.

"See you later, Mum and Dad," Ellie called. Out in the hallway the adults could hear Ellie softly continue to apologize to Collin about her uncles' behavior.

Mary turned to glare at the men, Sherlock and Mycroft especially, but rather than say a word she walked to the living room window and watched as her only child was helped into Mrs. Davis's car before driving away.

"Mary? Love?" John asked, rising from the couch to stand by her side.

"She's growing up too fast John. My baby is growing up too fast," Mary sighed sadly.

"I know love, I know."

Lestrade, Mycroft, and Sherlock shifted, unsure of what to do as the Watson lovebirds began to coo to one another.

"Oh, and boys?" Mary spoke up, not turning away from the window even as she addressed them. "Don't think that I won't get even with you for what you did to Ellie and her date tonight. Guns…deductions…threats, oh believe me you will be paying for this night for a _long_ time."

All three men stiffened up like schoolboys, hearing the absolute veracity and ferocity in Mary's words. They exchanged a glance before nodding once.

"Well then, ahem, as amusing as this evening has been, I must return to work. I thank you for my inclusion and bid you all a good night," Mycroft said smoothly, standing up first. He bowed to Mary Watson and nodded cordially to John before sweeping out of the room.

"I hate to bring up business," Lestrade frowned, glancing nervously to Sherlock. "But we have a few cases down at the Yard that I wouldn't mind your help with. What do you say, Sherlock?"

"Maybe some other night?" John asked, glancing up worriedly from Mary.

"Do not worry yourself, John. I require no assistant tonight. Come along Lestrade, let us see to these cases of yours," Sherlock ordered, moving gracefully from his seat and striding out the door, Lestrade following in his wake with a sheepish glance back at Mary and John.

"Have a nice night you two. Thanks for letting me know about it," he said in way of farewell.

"Good night, mate," John chuckled.

"Don't get into too much trouble, Sherlock," Mary warned, some of her displeasure ebbing away as her natural good nature took over. Sherlock, just as good-naturedly, ignored her warning and swept out of the flat, Lestrade following behind him. John and Mary stayed at the window to watch the town car leave with Mycroft and Lestrade's cruiser leave with both him and Sherlock.

"Do they honestly think they're fooling either one of us?" Mary sighed as John wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Let them have their fantasy. They'll make sure Ellie's safe and besides, now we have some guaranteed time to ourselves," John smiled wickedly down at Mary who only laughed.

**A/N: This is part one of a two-part drabble. Second one will be up soon! Thank you Lovee, Raychaell Dionzeros, and laureleaf for the reviews! They're very much appreciated! Also, if anyone has an idea for a drabble they'd like to see, please feel free to PM me.**


	4. First Dance (age 13) Part 2

**Lestrade and I are in place. ~ SH**

**Understood, surveillance is in order. Target acquired. Do not be seen. ~ MH**

"Mary is going to kill us if she ever finds out about this," Lestrade muttered to himself as he read over the texts from Sherlock and Mycroft. "Ellie too, for that matter."

**Calm yourself, Lestrade. If you are unwilling to see to the safety of our niece then I suggest that you leave. ~ SH**

"Bloody moron," Lestrade griped.

**I heard that. I assume you were speaking of my little brother. ~ MH**

Lestrade swore again.

**Insane, the entire lot of you! And I'm insane for going along with this! And why is it that Sherlock got to go inside while I'm stuck out here? ~ GL**

**Sherlock has the ability to blend in as he wills. I have the means to ensure Eleanor and her escort are in sight at all times. You are there to ensure that she has a safe ride home and to provide a police presence should Sherlock become out of hand. ~ MH**

**I'm Sherlock's babysitter? Again?! I actually am competent at other things, despite what your brother claims! ~ GL**

**We shall see. For now, remain where you are. I will see to it that you are kept updated on matters. ~ MH.**

"I have got to find new friends," Lestrade grumbled, settling back in his car. Even as he was wondering just what Sherlock was getting up to and how Little Elle was enjoying her first dance, if was being completely honest he didn't have any real desire to go into the school. Being thirteen once had been bad enough, he didn't have any desire to re-experience it in any way, shape, or form.

**Collin has spent the last three fast songs and one slow song dancing with another girl, leaving Ellen completely alone. Lestrade, be ready with the police lights. ~ SH**

"Oh Christ, Sherlock!" Lestrade barreled out of the police car and ran for the school, hoping to God that he wouldn't have to actually arrest his consulting detective for murder. Sure, it was fun to arrest him every now and again (it gave everyone down at the Yard a much needed break and laugh), but not even Sherlock Holmes and his git of a big brother could wipe away charges for murder!

Lestrade's phone in his pocket went off and he answered without checking to see who had called, acting on automatic as he hurried to enter the school.

"Return to your car at once, Lestrade," Mycroft ordered tersely, his angry tone _almost_ stopping Lestrade in his tracks.

"He's going to murder that kid, Mycroft!" Lestrade protested.

"Return to your car. The situation is under control and _does not_ require your assistance."

"Sherlock's in there and the boy's being an idiot with our girl! Relax Mycroft, I know what I'm doing!" Lestrade insisted before entering the school. He slowed his pace down as he approached the gymnasium, realizing that if he went barreling in with his Glock out it would attract unnecessary attention and lead to a public relations nightmare for Scotland Yard.

He sidled into the dance hall, sticking to the walls and keeping his eyes peeled for his niece and the boy-who-was-not-to-be-killed-but-could-be-maimed, as well as the overgrown Consulting Detective.

Not surprisingly, in a room filled with angst-ridden teenagers all hopelessly grinding on one another (Lestrade said a silent prayer hoping that Elle was _not_ one of the dancing teens) it was fairly easy to spot the six-foot-and-a-half-inch giant.

"Sherlock," Lestrade said quietly,

"Hmm? Oh pardon me sir, are you one of the other chaperones?" the bespectacled, frumpy haired teacher enquired.

"Yeah, your chaperone," Lestrade said sarcastically. "Drop the act mate, we need to get out of here."

"I beg your pardon!" the professor blustered. "Sir, _who_ exactly do you think you are?"

"Stop being funny Sherlock and come on. We shouldn't even be here, I told you in the car this was a stupid idea!"

"I see," the professor in the plaid dress coat said slowly, nodding his head. "Right this way, we can talk better outside."

"That's all I'm asking mate. I know the boy's being an idiot to our girl, but this isn't the way to handle things," Lestrade said in a low voice as he and Sherlock made their way out of the room.

They had almost made it out of the gym when they heard it: the sound of many youths laughing. Completely unimportant and unworthy of attention until a single voice rose above the laughter and the loud music.

"Oh would you all just SHUT UP!" Ellie Watson shouted. Lestrade and Sherlock paused mid-step, stiffening and turning towards the shout.

There was a crowd of students surrounding a table and past the students Sherlock and Lestrade could see Ellie in her purple dress, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. There was something else also on her face, something that her two uncles could see clearly from across the room. The fresh tracks of running mascara caused by a teenager's tears.

"Lestrade…"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"How responsible will you hold me for what I do tonight?"

"I'd rather not have to arrest you, but beyond that I'm feeling rather flexible."

"I understand the layout of this school quite well. I believe that I would find something much of interest in the school's science classroom. Would you care to accompany me?"

"Lead the way mate."

* * *

"I really ought to kill all three of you," Ellie observed lightly as the fire trucks pulled away from the school two hours later. The skirt of her dress was torn and her make-up smudged, but she was otherwise unharmed. The three men standing next to her on the curb outside of her school, however, were not in such great shape.

"Like I said earlier, we're really sorry Elle. We'll all make it up to you, I swear," Lestrade apologized for what he thought might be the hundredth time that night. His shirt was coated with dried cafeteria pudding with the look in his eyes of a man who had seen unnecessary teenage horrors.

"It was a…tactical error on our part," Sherlock spoke with some trouble, his cheek swollen from where the Home Economics teacher had gotten a punch in during the chaos. His cheeks were flushed with what one could assume to be embarrassment.

"The simple mistake of acting too quickly," Mycroft added with a glare at Lestrade. There was dust on his suit, the tip of his umbrella was slightly dented, and he was _not_ happy. "It shall not happen again."

"You're right it won't," Ellie nodded firmly. "But really, I'm not all that mad at you. Embarrassed. _Humiliated_. Trying to figure out how I'm going to do damage control at school, but not too mad at the moment. Give it time to sink in and I'm sure it will."

"To busy being upset with Collin?" Sherlock observed.

"For once in your life would you be _silent_ Sherlock?" Mycroft hissed at his younger brother.

"No," Ellie said with a roll of her eyes. "I was never all that interested in Collin, to be honest."

"Oh?" Sherlock asked with far too much curiosity to be healthy.

"Yes, and don't talk like that Uncle 'Lock, you make me nervous. But I was never all that interested in Collin because I _knew_ that he liked my friend Christine more than me. I knew when he asked me out that he was only doing it to make her jealous."

"He _used_ you!" all three men shouted at once.

"Well, technically _I_ used _him_. I knew when he asked me out what he was trying to do and I didn't really care. I also knew that Christine liked him and that my going with him would be a tipping point for them to get over themselves. Really it was too simple," Ellie rolled her eyes. "And it really didn't bother me too much, I just thought it'd be nice to go to the dance."

"And you know what else, I really don't want to hear it from _any_ of you about using people. Uncle Lestrade, you use Uncle Sherlock to solve cases all the time. Uncle Sherlock, I've heard the stories about how you used to use Aunt Molly and all other sorts of people. Uncle Mycroft…oh please do not insult my intelligence," Ellie scoffed, doing a remarkable imitation of her mother.

The men had the good graces to appear slightly embarrassed. If they looked a little fearful of this younger version of the terrifying Mary Watson, well…none of _them_ were certainly going to say anything.

"And what is more, Collin actually _did_ tell me when we were at the dance. Which is why _I_ told him that he should ask her to dance. Although I wasn't planning on them dancing the whole time and leaving me alone," Ellie admitted with a scowl.

"Yes, leaving you alone," Mycroft frowned now. "Regardless of his debatable intentions, he left _you_ alone. And that is inexcusable."

"Especially with that lot giving you trouble," Lestrade added with a growl, jerking his head in the general direction of the school. "We saw those kids, heard you shouting at them. What did they do to you? What'd they say?"

"You mean those losers who were harassing me at the dance? You started this, all of _this_, just because some simpletons were giving me a hard time? Are you kidding me?!" Ellie screeched, her voice echoing in the night air. Sherlock stiffened, Lestrade cringed back, and Mycroft winced ever so slightly.

There was silence as Ellie's echo fell. Somewhere on a street nearby a street cat began to caterwaul as the buses continued on their schedule.

"Well it wouldn't have started if Sherlock hadn't gone into the chem lab," Lestrade mumbled.

"_Me?_ You were the one who couldn't wait in the car!"

"Yeah well if you hadn't gone running in and leaving me behind like a bloody chauffer!"

"You were the get-away car, I told you this!" Mycroft snapped.

"No, you called me Sherlock's babysitter!"

"I did no such thing."

"I do not require a handler, _Mycroft_."

"Oh now that's rich," Lestrade let loose a bark of laughter, Mycroft looking amused as well. Even Ellie cracked a smile. She loved her godfather to bits, but her father was accurate in his terming the consulting detective as an "overgrown man-child".

"Gentlemen," Ellie interrupted at this point before they could descend even more into chaos. "If we could get back to the topic at hand? You three _spied_ on me, infiltrated my school, and disrupted the entire dance. You started a food fight, released God only knows what through the sprinkler system, the fire department had to be called in, a Hazmat team was on standby, and the dance was cancelled early which meant that crowds of upset parents had to be called in. I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't be told when the dance is rescheduled and if my mum has any friends left on the PTA then I will be amazed. Then there is Collin Davis, a genuinely decent bloke who spent the entire night being traumatized by your antics and now looks like a cross-production between the cafeteria and the science lab. He's gone home with his mum, leaving me stranded here with you three, not that I can really blame him, and I have a bad feeling that _his_ mum will never speak to _my_ mum again. And all because of how ridiculously paranoid and overprotective my _nitwit uncles have been tonight!"_

Her three uncles opened their mouths to interrupt her, but the teenager pressed on.

"I realize you all love and care about me and want what's best for me. But the overprotective thing is starting to get a little old. I can take care of myself. _All_ of you have taught me to how to take care of myself! So would you please trust your teachings and trust me?"

"We just didn't want to see you being hurt Elle," Lestrade frowned with concern. "Kids can be nasty."

Elle smiled patiently.

"I know Uncle 'Strade, I really do. It's something I've gotten used to, being a part of this family. But that's the thing: I'm used to it, it doesn't bother me anymore. A few idiots want to laugh at me because my date's off having a good time with someone else? Go ahead, I don't care! If that's really the best they can come up with then fine, I'll let them feel superior for now, because eventually they're all going to be answering to _me_ someday."

"That's the spirit Lady Eleanor," Mycroft smiled with approval.

"Thanks Uncle Myc. So please, could you all at least try and trust me a little more now?"

"I…er, _we_ do trust you Elle," Lestrade corrected himself.

"And you are correct. I apologize Lady Eleanor. As Mrs. Hudson said earlier, you are a young lady now and can be trusted to take care of matters on your own," Mycroft said stiffly. Everyone looked expectantly to Sherlock who looked to be struggling with his words.

"I…"

"You will always be there for me when I need you," Ellie said gently, her temper cooling. "I understand Uncle 'Lock. And I know that you all will be there for me if I ever need you. Right?"

"Precisely," Sherlock sighed in gratitude.

"Good. Now that that's taken care of why don't we all go back home, have some tea, and you three can decide which one of you will be explaining to my mum and dad what exactly happened here tonight? Oh, and if you feel like explaining just what you released in the sprinkler system, I wouldn't mind knowing the chemical compound. The way it reacted to all that hairspray…amazing!"

**A/N I'm sorry if any of this is untrue for UK, but I'm from the USA and I really don't know what school is like over there, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.**

**A/N 2 I just wanted to say that I had so much fun with writing this one and the one before it. Probably more than I should have. I hope all of you lovely readers enjoyed it!**


	5. Afternoon Autopsy W Aunt Molly (age 8)

**Important notice that should have been posted earlier:**

**Ellen = Sherlock's nickname for Eleanor Watson. (It's for chemist Ellen Henrietta Swallow Richards.)**

**Lady Eleanor = Mycroft's nickname (Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine who was the mother of King Richard the Lionheart.)**

**Little Elle = Lestrade's nickname (reasoning will be revealed in later chapter)**

**Just about everyone else calls her Ellie, and I may refer to her by any of these names depending on who is talking to her.**

"What's this?" Eleanor Watson pointed curiously to one of the many gleaming tools on her Aunt Molly's workstation.

Today had been declared a "take your niece to work" day as John and Sherlock were busy on a case and Mary had been called into work last minute. The hospital higher-ups had okayed it, understanding that the child was under the protection of Doctor Hooper (works there), the police department (works with them), the government (terrifies them), Sherlock Holmes (traumatizes them), and obviously Drs. John and Mary Watson (the couple with a license to kill). As long as she didn't make too much noise, disturb the patients (not that that's a problem down in morgue), or blow anything up no one really cared about having the adorable cherub skipping through the halls. In fact, many of the doctors delighted in her presence since she had all of the compassion of John and the sweetness of her mother. Until of course they remembered that she was Sherlock's protégé and she would innocently ask them about private details of their lives and then it was a matter of oh-my-God-how-did-this-angel-know-about-_that_?

But returning to the afternoon that Ellie was spending with her auntie…

"That is an enterotome," Molly answered promptly, smiling down at her pseudo-niece.

"What's it do?" Ellie asked, leaning in closer to get a better look at the strange scissors-like object.

"I use it to cut open different parts of people's bodies, like the alimentary tract. You'll learn all about that when you start studying biology and learn about the body. It's also useful for looking at intestines, which is another part of the digestive system," Molly explained.

"The digestive system," Ellie mused over the word. "You mean the stomach?"

"Well, yes the stomach is part of the digestive system, but there is also –"

"Molly, I need to see Mrs. Jacobs!" Sherlock bellowed, barreling into the morgue at warp speed, his Belstaff billowing behind him. In his hands he carried two large sacks, from one of them Molly could see what looked like an arm. She shook her head in disbelief. Only Sherlock Holmes would walk around London with bags of body parts in plain sight and get away with it. Probably went in a cab without a second thought…

"Hi Uncle 'Lock!" Eleanor waved eagerly at her beloved uncle. "I'm helping Auntie Molly today! Are you here to help too?"

"Ellen?" Sherlock frowned, immediately taking in the details of the scene. When Eleanor began to pout at her uncle, confused by his displeasure, he schooled his features into a warm smile. He couldn't bear to see his little scientist unhappy, especially if she thought _he_ was unhappy with _her_.

"Hello my dear," he continued to smile as he swept her up into his arms and gave her a light peck on the cheek. "I see you are assisting your Aunt Molly today. Have you conducted any of your experiments yet?"

"Not yet," Ellen frowned. "Auntie Molly wants me to be used to the lab before I start experimenting here. Right now we're going over the different tools. Oh, I had an idea for an experiment!" she added excitedly. "Could you help me?"

"Brilliant Ellen, and of course I can and I will, but would you mind waiting a moment my dear? I need to borrow your Aunt Molly for a moment," Sherlock requested as he set Ellen back down carefully on her stool.

"Okay Uncle 'Lock. Auntie Molly, may I keep looking at your tools?" Ellen asked hopefully.

"Of course Ellie. But just look, don't touch," Molly warned before stepping away from the counter to over in the corner where Sherlock was already waiting and fuming. Molly rolled her eyes, all too used to that look of self-righteous indignation.

"Molly, what is Ellen doing here?" he demanded, pitching his voice low so that Ellen would not overhear.

"Isn't it obvious? She's spending a day with me in the lab," Molly answered promptly, taking the hint and keeping her voice low.

"Her parents would not approve. It's one of the Rules!"

"It's fine, Sherlock. Mary knows she's here."

"_What!_" Sherlock hissed like a wet cat.

"Oh come on Sherlock, you can deduce this," Molly insisted. "John's helping you on a case, Mary got called in last minute at work, Mrs. Hudson is visiting her sister, Lestrade's at the office, and Mycroft's dealing with some international dispute involving a hairdryer and the duchess of Ukraine. _Someone_ had to watch Ellie."

"_Ellen_," Sherlock stressed. "Why the rest of you insist on giving her such ridiculous nicknames –"

"Just because you want to call her after that physicist –"

"_Chemist_," Sherlock growled.

"Doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with my nickname for her," Molly continued stubbornly. "And what about Lestrade's? 'Little Elle'? I mean really, he's practically naming her after Elle Woods!"

"Who?" Sherlock frowned in confusion before shaking his head. "No matter. And _of course_ it's an idiotic name, but it is _Lestrade_ and that is not the point here!"

"Nope," Molly grinned. "The point is that Mary and John trust me to know what is and is not appropriate for their daughter to see and do. I'm _just_ showing _Ellie_ my tools. I'm not letting her see a dead human body, and while she's here neither are you. I'm doing paperwork, being productive, and spending quality time with my niece. I fail to see the problem here."

"But why do you get to show her the lab first?" Sherlock whined pathetically, doing a remarkable impression of a four-year-old.

"It's my lab, Sherlock," Molly explained, taking a deep breath and holding onto her patience. "Why wouldn't I show her where I work?"

"But it's _my_ home away from home. Wait, tell me you didn't show her the microscope!"

"No Sherlock, I have not shown her your microscope. She's eight, Sherlock, would she even really understand what it is that she's seeing?"

"And _that_ is why I should have been the one to take her to her first real laboratory," Sherlock insisted. "You underestimate the potential for the child's intelligence."

"She's a _child,_ Sherlock. It's all right for her to just…play."

"Work is play."

"You would say that."

"Auntie Molly, can we do the autopsy now?" Ellie asked curiously, popping up between her aunt and godfather.

"You get to lead her through an autopsy too!"

"_Sherlock Holmes_…" Molly trailed off threateningly before turning to smile down at Ellie. "Of course sweetheart. Do you remember the lab safety protocol we went over?"

"No touching anything unless you say so. Wear gloves and safety goggles at all times. Don't save any body parts for Uncle 'Lock. Did I forget anything?" Ellie asked innocently.

"What do you mean, no saving body parts for Uncle Sherlock?" Sherlock demanded, outraged.

"Would you _hush_?" Dr. Hooper hissed at him. "You said that you had experiments of your own to conduct. Go over there and run them and let us girls have our fun. I don't want to hear another word out of you for the next hour, are we clear?"

"But –"

"Sherlock," Molly started to appeal to him in a softer, gentler tone that was reminiscent of the days when she was his doormat. "Please let me have this time with Ellie? She experiments with you all the time, Mycroft watches her constantly, and Lestrade's going to be teaching her to shoot soon. Please let me spend some quality time with my niece?"

Sherlock sighed heavily, and though he did not look happy about it, he moved away from the table to give his favorite pathologist and beloved goddaughter some space to do their work. He sat down at his microscope and _tried_ to focus on obtaining the results that he needed to solve the case.

"All right, first things first Miss Ellie," Molly looked expectantly to her niece.

"We wash our hands?"

"Exactly. And then what do we do?" Molly asked as they began to wash their hands. Ellie frowned for a moment then her eyes lit up with realization.

"We get the safety goggles and gloves. Why do I have to wear all this?" Ellie asked curiously as she accepted the child-sized pair of goggles from her aunt.

"Because you're eight and your mummy would kill me if you got body fluid all over you."

"Oh. So who are we autopsying today?" Ellie asked, speaking in the tone of voice that she usually only used when assisting Sherlock with _his_ experiments. As fascinating as Mr. Vanburen's tendons were, Sherlock found his attention drawn to the workstation one table over.

"Today we'll be autopsying Sir Hopperton," Molly said with a straight face. Ellie giggled with delight as Molly pulled out a large (dead) bullfrog.

"He lived a nice long life in the pond behind the hospital. But he died this morning and now we're going to see if we can figure out how he died, all right?" Molly asked Ellie carefully.

"Right. No frogs were killed for the sake of this autopsy," Ellie said solemnly before letting loose a peal of giggles. "Don't worry Auntie Molly, I know it's not a real autopsy. It's a dissection," Ellie stated the word proudly. "Not as good as a autopsy, but that's all right. I'm still learning loads! Wait 'til I tell the other kids at school that I got to hold a frog liver!"

"That's my girl. Do you want to make the first incision?"

Ellie gasped with delight.

"Can I? Please, please, please can I Auntie Molly?"

"Of course dear. You just have to keep a firm hand and still be gentle. That's it, make the cut right there along the throat. Not too deep now," Molly instructed carefully as she oversaw her niece's work.

"And then down here at the legs?" Ellie asked.

"Exactly right. Oh, and now it's time to make a vertical incision. That's it, just connect the cuts. Good girl. You've got a very steady hand," Molly complimented.

"Thanks Auntie Molly! Uncle 'Lock, did you want to come see?" Ellie asked, glancing up to smile at her uncle who had during the course of her cutting into the frog stood up from his workstation and had come to loom over the two females.

"Sherlock," Molly started warningly.

"I am merely an observer Doctor Hooper. This is your…_patient_ and your pupil for the moment. Do as you see fit," Sherlock instructed.

"Well…all right," Molly said nervously. With one last fleeting look at Sherlock she returned her attention to Ellie. "What do you think we should do next Ellie?"

"Open him up and take out his heart!" Ellie cheered.

Molly's head shot up and she glanced uncertainly towards Sherlock, who to her surprise was looking back at her, a mild look of concern on his face. While they both adored the child, was such behavior a possible indication that they should be concerned over the likelihood of her growing up to be a psychopath? True, such a reaction was normal in Sherlock, but a little child? Maybe there was a handbook they could check…?

"That's…correct Ellie," Molly said carefully. "Although in a real autopsy I wouldn't start with his heart. We would start with locating his lungs and his intestines."

"You mean this thing?" Ellie asked, reaching out to pinch off a piece of the organ in question. She pinched harder than she had intended, though, and accidentally sent its contents squirting up to hit Molly in the face.

"Bloody hell," Molly cursed without thinking.

"Oooh, Auntie Molly said a bad word!" Ellie laughed in delight.

"And _I_ am supposedly the bad influence," Sherlock tsked.

**A/N So yes, I am making the assumption that with so many years after The Fall and The Return, Molly may have finally grown a backbone and be able to stand up to Sherlock. Her feelings for Sherlock (and any feelings he may possibly have for her) aside, flirting in front of a little kid in a morgue is **_**not**_** appropriate. John would kill them both with probable assistance from Mary.**


	6. Secret (age 14)

Little Elle had been acting strangely for weeks now. She was ducking out of her shooting practice. She wasn't hanging around the precinct as much (which was a bit of a blessing to be honest). She wasn't asking to see old case reports as much as she once had. If she hadn't been offering up her insight on the odd case (only the ones that didn't hold Sherlock's interest of course) then Lestrade would have begun to worry.

Ellen had been acting strangely for weeks now. She did not assist in experiments. She did not beg for information about the latest cases. She did not do her homework in 221B, alternating between working and complaining about inaccuracies in her textbooks. If her grades and argumentative deductions had dropped, Sherlock might have begun to panic.

Lady Eleanor had been acting strangely for weeks now. She was spending an inordinate amount of time away from 221 Baker Street. She was using her sneaking abilities to avoid the CCTV cameras and his tails and thus vanishing completely from his eye for hours at a time. If she wasn't walking Gladstone at regular intervals and staying firmly in sight of the CCTV while doing so, Mycroft might have begun to pull resources to have a tracker placed on the girl.

Ellie had been acting strangely for weeks now, and it was wonderful. Mary was thrilled to see her daughter so happy and John was grudgingly accepting of the situation. All three had agreed though that it was best to keep it a secret for now from her uncles.

* * *

"That was hardly worth leaving the flat," Sherlock sniffed derisively as he and John walked down the streets of London.

"Well Lestrade appreciated our help if nothing else," John pointed out. "And it was a good chance to get out of the flat, you've been locked in there for days now."

"I've been experimenting."

"You've been torturing your violin for _at least_ the last 48 hours. Even Ellie could hear you last night, and she sleeps like the dead."

"Experimenting."

"Right," John rolled his eyes and they continued on in this easy manner until Sherlock came to a halt outside a coffee shop.

"What's the matter Sherlock? Actually admitting to being hungry for once?" John joked, his voice falling flat as his eyes landed on the sight that had made Sherlock stop. Ellie Watson was sitting at one of the smaller tables in the shop laughing and talking with a dark haired boy. Innocent enough.

Except that there was a clear view of the table and the fifteen-year-old boy's hand reaching under the table to come to a rest on top of Ellie's thigh.

"John," Sherlock's voice came out in a strangled garble as he moved immediately for the door of the small coffee shop.

"Hold it, Sherlock," John ordered, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. "Leave them be."

"There is a ruffian molesting your daughter, or have your senses completely failed you?" Sherlock snapped, practically boiling over with rage.

"Sherlock, that's not a ruffian. That's Tyler Blake. He's been around the flat a few times, Mary's met him. He's a decent enough kid."

"His hand is on Ellen's leg," Sherlock continued to insist, slowly moving from absolute outrage to confused dejection. The case had not been worth his interest, and now there was _this_ irresistible target in front of him. A chance to procure a fresh new hand to experiment on _and_ defend his goddaughter? It was Christmas!

"Which I'm not thrilled about, but considering that he's her boyfriend I can't exactly condemn him. Lord knows what I was getting up to when I was her age," John shook his head.

"Her _what_!" Sherlock squawked, the hideous screech of his normally magnificent voice gaining more than a little attention from those around them and the patrons in the shop. Ellie's head snapped away from looking into Tyler's eyes to land instantly on her father and uncle. Her mouth dropped open in shock and she quickly stood up from the table. Tyler made to stand up as well, but she gestured at him, her face apologetic. He listened to her then nodded, grinning at her until she turned away and practically flew to the front door. As she exited the shop Tyler's eyes moved from following her to look outside. He waved slightly at John who nodded once at him in return. Tyler then turned to lock eyes with Sherlock Holmes (thankfully through a fairly strong window of glass with several people in between them acting as unknowing guards and witnesses). Tyler swallowed as Sherlock narrowed his eyes threateningly at the fifteen-year-old male.

"Dad! Uncle Sherlock!" Ellie called out. Sherlock turned away from skewering the ruffian with his eyes to smile affectionately at his niece.

"Hello Ellen," Sherlock's voice had returned to its normal imitation of dark velvet as he watched with pleasure as his niece came to greet them.

"I see you and Tyler are having a nice time," John observed in that teasing-serious tone that all dads everywhere had perfected just for the sake of making their daughters blush with embarrassment.

"Yeah, we are," Ellie admitted, turning a lovely shade of scarlet. "I didn't realize that you two would be in this area right now, otherwise, I mean I um, that is to say…"

"Deception does not suit you Ellen. I would suggest that you come clean to your father and I now."

"Uncle 'Lock…" Ellen wheedled, using her special nickname for him. "Dad's already met Tyler. I just…I didn't think that you and Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Lestrade would really want to meet him."

"What did I just say about deception?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow expertly in disbelief. "You _have_ brought him to the flat, at least twice. He has met John and your mother and this is your seventh date. He is your _boyfriend_, although _why_ you insist on using such insipid and pedestrian terms I will never understand. You originally were tutoring this _Tyler_ in chemistry and eventually succumbed to his attentions. Really Ellen, you could do so much better than this Neanderthal in need of a football scholarship. And that reminds me –"

"That's _enough_!" Ellen snapped, her voice rising with anger yet staying even in tone. Her bright blue eyes were practically smoldering as she glared up at her godfather, almost shaking with fury. He blinked, she blinked, and John sighed heavily.

"Sorry," Ellie glanced down to the sidewalk. She glanced over her shoulder to see Tyler staring at her. She waved at him and he smiled back, oblivious to the argument going on in the street.

"I didn't mean to snap at you Uncle Sherlock, but could you _please_ not do this? I really like Tyler. He's sweet and he likes me. He asked me out…no guy's ever done that before. He even…he even said that I was beautiful," Ellen admitted with a monstrous blush, her eyes still downcast. Sherlock did not even open his mouth to speak as he stared intently at his goddaughter.

"I _promise_ that I'll bring him over to the flat in the next few days and have him come meet you properly. But please, please, _please_ don't ruin this for me. He's really sweet and I…please?" Ellie asked helplessly, finally raising her eyes to meet her uncle's. Sherlock stared down at her then sighed heavily.

"Is _he_ the reason that you have not been assisting me with my experiments and going missing from the flat?"

"Yes," Ellen admitted quietly. "We've been going on dates. Just to see movies or get coffee. Lately he's been asking me to come watch him at football practice. He's really good," she added. "He's probably going to get a full scholarship later."

"I dislike having my routine interrupted," Sherlock continued, both of them ignoring as John coughed "understatement". "But considering that your mother and father have already given their approval for your dating this plebian I suppose I cannot deny you."

"Thank you," Ellen sighed heavily with relief, a smile brightening her face. She reached out to hug her uncle briefly then promptly stepped to the side to give her father a hug.

"I know it's weird, but he really is sweet," she insisted, looking hopefully at her father this time.

"Your mum's said the same thing," John sighed. He hated seeing his little girl grow up so fast, but he wasn't going to get in her way.

"I better get back in there before he gets worried. Like I said, I'll bring him around the flat later so you can meet him properly. Maybe tea, yeah?" Ellen asked, starting to back away from her father and uncle.

"That sounds…delightful," Sherlock said through a strained smile reminiscent of when Scotland Yard had gifted him with the death Frisbee hat.

"And hey, if it makes you feel any better Uncle 'Lock, you found out about him before Uncle Myc and Uncle 'Strade," Ellen informed him.

"I beg your pardon? Lestrade, I can believe, but Mycroft as well?"

"I've been avoiding the CCTV. Uncle Mycroft's really starting to go lax in his old age," Ellen said teasingly, blowing a kiss to the nearby security camera.

"I'll see you at home!" Ellie called back to them before dashing back into the shop. Tyler stood up to greet her, smiling and laughing as she talked to him. They both waved to the two men as they began to walk down the street once more, a peculiar smile on Sherlock's face.

"What's that look then?" John asked nervously. "You planning on dissecting the kid?"

"Why, do you wish to assist me?"

"Nah, Mary'd kill me. But still, what's the look for?"

"Oh nothing, just considering all of the potential torture I can gain from this information when next I see Mycroft and Lestrade. Knowing about the beau before either of them…this is almost as delicious as when I informed them of the sex of your baby before she was born," Sherlock grinned wickedly.

"I wouldn't get too big of a head, mate," John cautioned. "You didn't beat Mrs. Hudson on meeting him."

"What!?"

* * *

**A/N Thank you so much everyone for all of the kind reviews! I really appreciate it and you know it's the funniest thing, but even though I'll keep writing this for as long as I choose, reviews really do give me some great inspiration for writing. So thanks for the inspiration and motivation! Hope you've enjoyed this latest installment, and it won't be the last time that we'll be meeting Mr. Tyler Blake.**


	7. Happy Birthday (age 5)

"Thank you Auntie Molly!" Eleanor Watson beamed at her favorite aunt as she held up the bright green sweater that her aunt had bought for her along with a lovely hair bow to match.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Happy birthday Ellie," Molly smiled warmly at her niece as she received an exuberant hug.

"Don't forget my hug," Mrs. Hudson chided gently. Ellie beamed at the older woman and positively flew into her arms, whispering a thank-you for the lovely hand-knitted scarf that she had unwrapped only moments earlier. The sweater from Auntie Molly may have been her favorite color, but the blue scarf that Grandma Hudson had knitted for the new five-year-old was an almost perfect match for the child's brilliant sapphire blue eyes. If it happened to resemble the certain scarf of one consulting detective well…who could blame a girl for wanting to imitate her godfather and play detective?

"Mind your manners Ellie," Mary Watson chided lovingly.

"Yes, Mummy. Oh, Uncle Myc!" Eleanor gasped with delight as Mycroft stepped into the living room where the party guests were gathered. It was a small grouping, family only that gathered in 221A Baker Street. Harry Watson had been unable to make the festivities (John and Mary had agreed that she was not to come near their daughter until she sobered up), but the room was otherwise filled with their extended family: Uncle Lestrade, Auntie Molly, Grandma Hudson, Uncle Sherlock, and now that Uncle Mycroft was in attendance the entire family was gathered.

"You are late, Mycroft," Sherlock informed his older brother.

"It was intentional. I am never late nor early, but I arrive precisely when I intend to. I did not want my present disrupting the festivities," Mycroft smiled thinly at his younger sibling before devoting his attention to his niece.

"Happy birthday Lady Eleanor."

"Thank you Uncle Myc," Eleanor said politely, trying not to let her disappointment show as she noticed that he carried no gift for her.

"I apologize for missing your birthday dinner and interrupting your gift opening. Would you mind taking a moment to come downstairs with me? Your gift is outside with Miss Anthea."

"May I Mummy? Please Poppa?" Ellie asked, looking towards her parents hopefully.

"Of course sweetheart," Mary smiled. Ellie clapped with delight and followed Mycroft Holmes back out the door. The other guests glanced at each other in confusion while the elder Watsons simply smiled. Mycroft (being the supposedly more-brilliant one of the Holmes brothers) had of course already cleared his present with the elder Watsons as well as their landlady.

Mycroft listened to Lady Eleanor chatter as they descended the stairs and exited 221. Anthea was waiting outside of Speedy's sandwich shop with the present and smiled at the sight of the adorable five-year-old.

Lady Eleanor's eyes widened almost immediately as she saw what Anthea had with her.

"Is…is that…?"

"Why don't you go take a closer look?" Mycroft prompted, nudging the little girl forward with a surprisingly warm smile. Eleanor stepped forward hesitantly, holding her hand out to the Tornjak puppy.

"Is he yours, Miss Anthea?" Eleanor asked hesitantly.

"No, I'm just watching him for his owner. She's a rather special young lady who just turned five today. Do you know anyone who fits that description?" she asked with a small smile. The white and brown puppy's tail thumped eagerly as Eleanor held her hand out for his inspection. He whuffed appreciatively and Eleanor giggled, dropping down to her hands and knees in the middle of the sidewalk to become better acquainted with her new friend. This delighted the puppy who began to give her a thorough inspection, both of them positively quivering with excitement.

"I love him!" Eleanor declared firmly, hugging her arms gently around the puppy's neck. "He's perfect!"

"He's also a part of a breed known for being extremely loyal and excellent guard dogs," Sherlock observed. The adults had all followed Eleanor and Mycroft outside and had watched in amusement as the young Watson met her new best friend. "A rather…inspired choice, Mycroft."

"I believe that Butler will do a marvelous job," Mycroft agreed.

" 'Butler'?" Lestrade only just held back his laughter at the name. "Bit presumptuous, don't 'cha think?"

"Every dog requires a name," Mycroft sniffed pompously.

"As my understanding dictates, it is the recipient of the puppy who has the right to choose his name," Sherlock smirked.

"Hey Ellie, what are you thinking we should call your new friend there?" John called out to his daughter, bored by her uncles' pointless debate on the subject.

"Gladstone!" Ellie answered promptly. The puppy arffed happily at the name and Ellie burst into a peal of giggles. "See? He likes the name already!"

"Hope you didn't have the collar engraved already," Lestrade muttered in a whisper to Mycroft.

"Oh do be quiet, Inspector. I would like to see what _you_ or my brother have come up with in the manner of presents," Mycroft scoffed.

"Now I thought we agreed this wasn't going to be a contest. It's about Little Elle, remember?"

"And doesn't Lady Eleanor deserve _the best_?" Mycroft challenged.

"A puppy is predictable. I believe you will both find my gift to be much more suited for Ellen's needs," Sherlock murmured with heavy self-satisfaction.

"Well why don't we go back inside and settle it?"

"Boys, I know you three aren't making my little girl's birthday about you?" Mary Watson asked from behind the three men, a tone of innocence belying the threat in her words. All three instantly straightened up (not that a Holmes ever _slouched_, heaven forbid) and shot nervous glances over their shoulders to the mother.

"Not at all Mary," Sherlock said smoothly. "But Ellen hasn't opened all of her presents yet. Surely she must want to see what else she has received to mark the occasion of her birth?"

Mary pursed her lips, not falling for Sherlock's smooth-talking for even a moment but she couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Ellie, love, why don't you and Gladstone come back into the flat now? You've still got other presents, remember?" Mary called out to her child.

"Okay Mummy! Come on Gladstone, you can help me open the rest of my presents!" Ellie said excitedly. Gladstone woofed once again and it was with a smile that Anthea helped the little girl lead the puppy into 221 Baker Street. With only a little pressing the personal assistant was induced to join in on the festivities, although soon after entering the flat she did find a convenient corner to settle herself in with her BlackBerry.

"Thank you Uncle Myc," Lady Eleanor declared once they were back in the flat, abandoning her puppy just long enough to wrap her tiny arms around Mycroft's legs. He looked down to see her looking up at him with absolute adoration. "He's absolutely and totally perfect! I could never ask for a better friend. Thank you so much!"

"Anything for you, Lady Eleanor," Mycroft smiled, and if anyone looked close enough they would notice the cold demeanor melting slightly away to reveal a truly touched gentleman. "It was truly my pleasure to provide you with such a steadfast companion."

"Which present do you want to open next darling?" Mary asked once they were all settled back in.

"Uncle 'Lock's please!" Ellen said, turning to her godfather with hopeful eyes. He smiled down at her and handed her a box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a matching bow.

"I believe you will find it to be a perfect fit," Sherlock said mysteriously as Ellen proceeded to unwrap her gift, Gladstone snuggled faithfully at her side. When the little girl had removed the lid from the box every occupant of 221C Baker Street had to reach up to cover their ears, so loud was the shriek of delight from the small child.

Ellen pulled the small Belstaff coat out with a flourish, her eyes wide as she looked at the dark blue wool. She stroked it reverently for a moment before realization flashed across her face. Whipping the coat on, she lunged across the living room to grab the scarf she had received from Mrs. Hudson. With trembling fingers she knotted it properly then stared down at herself in astonishment.

"Look everyone, I'm a consulting detective! Just like Poppa and Uncle 'Lock!" Ellen declared proudly, doing a small pirouette to better display the ensemble. The gathered company applauded politely, Mycroft sending a particularly venomous glare in the direction of his little brother. Molly was doing her best to not giggle too loudly while Mrs. Hudson had a handkerchief up to her mouth to suppress her laughter.

"You're _wonderful_ Uncle 'Lock! Thank you, thank you!" Ellen cheered, launching herself across the room to land in her godfather's lap, snuggling close as she wrapped her arms tightly around his torso. Sherlock, thankfully long used to such displays of affection from his niece, returned the hug and patted her gently on the head. Ellen hopped up from his lap, an eager gleam in her eyes that was spookily similar to the look that entered John and Sherlock's eyes when they received a new and exciting case.

"Come on Gladstone! Thieves and murderers are afoot! Let's go catch the scoundrels!" Ellen shouted. Gladstone stood up immediately at his mistress's command, preparing to follow her as she started to dash out of the room on her imaginary quest. It was a good thing that Mary Watson remembered her manners because her husband was currently too busy trying to not choke on his laughter as he and Sherlock leaned against each other, both chortling in a manner similar to their very first night as flatmates when they had run across the rooftops of London.

"Just a moment Ellie. Before you go and catch your first criminal you need to open Uncle Lestrade's present," Mary called out, her smile wide at the sight of her little girl trussed up like a detective.

"Sorry Uncle 'Strade," Little Elle apologized immediately, turning to look to her other uncle. While Sherlock and Mycroft were now glaring daggers at each other, telepathically debating on who had given their niece the better birthday present, they both felt a moment of peace that no matter what they would not be topped by whatever Lestrade had deigned to give the child.

Lestrade smiled warmly at the little girl and shook his head.

"Not a thing to be sorry for m'dear. I've got you a little something. Not quite as exciting as puppies or Belstaffs, but I think you'll like it just fine," Lestrade said, sounding very pleased with himself as he handed an envelope to the five-year-old.

"I know I can trust you with this, and I hope you use it well," he added as Little Elle carefully ripped the envelope open with the help of her mum.

Inside there was a beautiful glittery birthday card. Upon opening the card, Little Elle's eyes lit up to see laying there a laminated I.D. badge with her picture and the words New Scotland Yard scrolled across the top.

"What is this?" she whispered in awe.

"_That_ is your official consultant's badge," Lestrade replied promptly. "You show that to anyone at the Yard and they'll know that they can trust you to tell them the truth and help them however you can. Just like a _real_ detective."

Eleanor's eyes widened with delight. Oh the puppy was a perfect companion, and the Belstaff was perfect for when she played detective, but _this! _To be given a real badge and practically be made a real detective. She leapt up from where she was sitting amidst her presents and wrapped her arms tightly around her Uncle Lestrade's neck, her smile so large that it threatened to break her face.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it and I promise I'll be just as good as you and Uncle 'Lock! I'll be a big help and catch all the bad guys, I promise! Thank you Uncle 'Strade, thank you! You're the best!"

"You're welcome Little Elle," Lestrade chuckled. "Like I said, I _know_ that you'll use it well and not abuse this special privilege." If Lestrade happened to glance sarcastically over at Sherlock as he said this no one was going to point it out, especially considering that the consulting detective was currently too busy trying to compute the fact that his _five-year-old niece_ had just been given a badge to gain access into the Yard before he had.

"Where's your badge Uncle 'Lock?" Ellen asked excitedly, wanting to compare her badge to her uncle's.

"I am afraid I do not have one…with me at the moment," Sherlock said lamely.

"Oh, you lost it," Ellen nodded sagely. "I lose things sometimes too. But don't worry, you can use my badge until you find yours! Right Uncle 'Strade?" Little Elle turned expectantly to her silver-haired uncle.

"Actually Little Elle, you see that picture of you right there on the front? That means that this badge is _only_ good for _you_. No one else can use it," Lestrade made sure to make eye contact with Sherlock as he said this before turning back to Little Elle. "I'm trusting you with it, so you take extra special care of it, all right?"

"Okay Uncle 'Strade," Eleanor nodded solemnly before an idea occurred to her.

"Uncle Myc, do you have a badge?" Eleanor asked curiously.

"No my dear, I do not need a badge to get into the Yard. You know that I do my business elsewhere."

"But the Yard is the coolest!"

Mycroft made a silent vow to bring Lady Eleanor to work with him at the next opportunity he got. As he watched Lady Eleanor admire her new consultant badge he added a mental note to confiscate all unnecessary footage of today's events in 221A. No one outside of this home needed to know that _both_ of the Holmes brothers had been bested in a single hour.


	8. University (age 17)

"Come and sit down dear, you look like you could use a nice cuppa," Mrs. Hudson said warmly as her granddaughter entered 221C Baker Street.

"You're right, I could," Ellie Watson sighed heavily as she took a seat at the familiar worn table in the cheery kitchen.

"Something troubling you dear?" Mrs. Hudson frowned with concern, turning away from the kettle that she had just set to boiling to take a closer look at the young blonde.

"Sort of… It's just…I don't know if I can talk to you about it," Ellie said hesitantly.

"Nonsense, you know you can come to me for anything!"

"It's just…everyone's taking sides and they keep telling me it's my own choice, but then –"

"Now hold on there a moment love, what are you talking about? Start from the beginning," Mrs. Hudson ordered as she set a cup of tea in front of her granddaughter before taking the seat across the table from her.

"Thank you, and you're right. Well, you know how I've got to start thinking about the future? You know, where I want to go to university and what I want to study?"

"Yes dear. Quite the excitement about it, you and your grades. Top of your class in nearly every subject! We're so proud of you!"

"But that's the problem. Or, not the grades, but having so many options," Ellie explained hesitantly.

"I think you're going to have to run that by me again dear. Since when is having options a bad thing?"

"It's not…until it is. Or I guess it's not the options, but it _is_ the expectations. Mum and Dad are leaving me alone for the most part, but they've still been dropping hints about my going to St. Bart's like Dad, and Aunt Molly is giving all sorts of reading material on anatomy and chemistry. Uncle Lestrade is talking about _his_ alma mater, City University and their 'strong work ethics'. And Uncle Mycroft won't shut up about how he's already arranged for me to have an interview with the Headmaster at Cambridge."

"And what about Sherlock?"

"Oh Uncle Sherlock," Ellie shook her head disparagingly. "You mean the one who doesn't even want me to go to university?"

"What!" Mrs. Hudson squawked indignantly.

"Yeah," Ellie sighed heavily. "Honestly, he's the one having the most trouble with all of this future talk. I think if he had it his way I would never leave 221A. It's like he knows I'm mature, but he still thinks of me as the little girl in her coat and scarf chasing after him, pretending that he's Moriarty, and demanding that he return the Crown Jewels."

"To be fair dear, we all can't help but think of you that way. You're the only little one any of us have ever had," Mrs. Hudson pointed out.

"Right...Mum and Dad," Ellie muttered, shifting uncomfortably. It had been a hard time in all of their lives when they had discovered that it was impossible for Mary to have any more children. The Watsons had talked about adoption, but after Ellie was kidnapped they had agreed that it was unsafe to bring another child into the household. It had been a hard fact to accept and Ellie still felt a spasm of jealousy every time she heard her friends complain about their younger siblings. However, perhaps worse for Ellie, was that she was now the only child of the entire great clan made up of Hudson, Holmes, Watson, Hooper, and Lestrade.

Uncle Lestrade had never had children with his ex-wife, a woman that Ellie had never met as they had divorced before she was born. Aunt Molly had never married, doing some sort of weird on-again-off-again courtship thing with Uncle Sherlock that honestly not even the two of them understood. Molly Hooper had nieces and nephews of her own, of course, but all of them were older than Ellie and most didn't even live in England. Mrs. Hudson had never even had children of her own, adopting Sherlock and John as her sons and by extension Ellie as her granddaughter. And as far as Ellie knew, Mycroft had never been in a relationship with anyone _other_ than his job. Although there was a ring that he wore on his right hand, but he wouldn't even talk to Ellie about that...

Ellie was it. And somehow that meant that she was not only representing her own blood family, but she was also considered as the hope of the rest of her insane clan.

Absolutely no pressure there, of course.

"Well dear, what _is_ it exactly that you're wanting to do with your life?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she pushed a tin of biscuits towards the young woman.

"I…I don't really know _what_ specifically, just that I want something exciting. Something where I can make a difference," Ellie admitted. "Stupid, right?"

"Not at all dear. You've been surrounded by greatness all of your life and now you're wanting to add your own mark to the family story. Makes perfect sense," Mrs. Hudson said matter-of-factly.

"But it doesn't make sense when I'm looking at what I want to study and what I want to do with my life," Ellie protested.

"Well think about what you love to do!"

"That's just it! I love helping Uncle Sherlock with his chemistry experiments, I love researching the human body and figuring out the old autopsies that Aunt Molly shows me. I can't get enough of Mum and Dad's stories from the clinic. I want to _run_ my own crime scene, not just go to one of Uncle Lestrade's. I want to deal with the politicians, not just be introduced to them! And running experiments to see how to make things blow up, or keeping up with my training in jujutsu and sanshou! By the way, my next tournament is next weekend," Ellie added as an afterthought.

"Sanshou?"

"No, jujutsu. If I complete this tournament successfully I'll earn my black belt."

"Well I'm certainly not going to miss that! But to get back to the problem at hand it sounds to me like you want to do it all," Mrs. Hudson chuckled.

"Exactly! But there's no way for me to do that," Ellie sighed heavily.

"Have you ever considered…and this is just an old woman throwing around ideas, dear…but have you ever considered MI5?"

"The Security Service?" Ellie frowned, cupping her hands tightly around her tea mug. "No I…I hadn't."

"It's just me thinking out loud, dear, talking silly, but it seems to me that you would do marvelously there. I know from personal experience MI6 is wonderful, but it sounds to me that you're not interested in the traveling aspect," Mrs. Hudson dithered.

"No, not really. I love London too much to want to be away from it for long. The odd vacation's nice, but that's a vacation," Ellie sighed. "I don't want to be working when I could be sunning on a nice beach somewhere."

"Understandable, understandable," Mrs. Hudson nodded in agreement. "But then, wouldn't M15 be the perfect fit? All of the excitement, the espionage, the Work, and all of England at your feet."

"That does sound…amazing," Ellie admitted quietly, pushing her mug aside and lowering her head to the table. Mrs. Hudson frowned sadly at her granddaughter.

"There's something else bothering you that you're not telling me, isn't there?" Mrs. Hudson asked softly.

Ellie was silent, weighing her words before finally voicing the question that had been eating at her for weeks now.

"What if I let them down?" she whispered.

"Let who down?" Mrs. Hudson's brow puckered with confusion.

"Everyone," Ellie sighed, still with her head down on the table. "You, Auntie Molly, Uncle Lestrade, Anthea, Uncle Myc, Uncle 'Lock…Mum and Dad."

Ellie sounded particularly miserable at the mention of her parents, fear clouding her eyes over.

Mrs. Hudson looked at her granddaughter closely before nodding firmly. Rolling up the newspaper that she had been reading before Ellie had come to visit, she brought it down firmly on Ellie's head with a sharp WHACK!

"Ouch! Grandma Hudson!" Ellie yelped in surprise, shooting up from the table and almost spilling over the remains of her tea.

"Now you listen to me young lady, I don't want to ever hear that sort of talk from you again, do you understand?" Mrs. Hudson reprimanded the teenager. "Do we have expectations for you? Certainly! We expect you to be successful, no matter what you do. We expect you to do great things because you have been taught well. But most importantly, we expect you to be happy. That's the most important thing to any of us, and if anyone says otherwise you just let me know and I'll take care of things."

"Even Uncle Myc?" Ellie asked with a hesitant giggle.

"Oh you leave him to me if he's giving you problems. Now I know he and Sherlock are used to having their own ways, but this is _your_ future we are talking about. I'll not hear of any of their interfering unless _you _ask for their help. And what's more, you are John and Mary Watson's daughter, _not_ theirs, no matter what ideas they seem to have on your education. You worry about your own happiness and the approval of your parents and leave the rest of the family to me. Don't you ever forget, young lady, who the matriarch of this clan is," Mrs. Hudson said with a crafty smile.

"Absolutely Grandma Hudson," Ellie smiled warmly.

"Good. And give your Uncle Mycroft a ring about M15. Even if you decide it's not for you, it can't hurt to gather a little more information."

"I'm still not sure if it's what I _really_ want to do, but…yeah. Giving him a call to at least ask about the possibility wouldn't hurt."

"Precisely! And I'm sure he'd love to hear from you regardless. Maybe you can go visit him at Whitehall again?"

"It has been a while since I visited. George has just been so stuffy lately," Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Oh those lads, but don't you worry, they all grow up all right in the end," Mrs. Hudson said kindly.

"Yeah, I know. It would be nice to see Queen Lizzy again," Ellie admitted with a smile.

"Don't let your uncles hear you calling her that," Mrs. Hudson chided.

"What? She asked me to call her that!" Ellie defended herself.

"Oh I'm sure she did," Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

Ellie sighed, knowing that there was no use in arguing the point with her grandmother.

"Thank you for the tea Grandma Hudson, but I should probably get started on my schoolwork now," Ellie admitted.

"Of course dear. You go do your schoolwork, but don't hesitate to come back down if you need to talks some more. I can be your impartial sounding board away from that lot upstairs," Mrs. Hudson said with a chuckle.

"Thanks," Ellie grinned, reaching out and giving the older woman a warm hug. "You're the best Grandma."

"And don't you forget it. And think about what I said about MI5. Let me know if you need a reference," Mrs. Hudson said, a twinkle in her eyes.

"I'm sure you'd write a lovely letter, but I'm not sure that that would be _quite_ what they're looking for," Ellie said hesitantly.

"Ask your Uncle Mycroft about my work with MI6 sometimes. Tell him to give you Clearance Level 3, approved by M.H. And no, that does not stand for Mycroft Holmes. Also, do make sure to ask after my sister, dear. She just goes by M, but I'm sure that they'll know who you mean and will patch you through. If you do talk to her, please tell her that I'd love for her to come and visit sometimes if she's not too busy," Mrs. Hudson smiled. Ellie's mouth dropped open with shock, but her grandmother only winked at her and picked up the used mugs, taking them to the sink as she quietly hummed "Rule Britannia".

* * *

**A/N This wasn't what I had originally planned to post, but it's what was ready so enjoy! Not quite as fluffy or as focused on the uncles as the others are, but Grandma Hudson deserves some love to. And I kind of sort of completely adopted the head canon that Mrs. Hudson has two sisters: M who works in the government and Minerva McGonagall who works at a school in Scotland. Sadly McGonagall will not be featuring in this story, unless someone has a good idea on how I can work her in. I own nothing beyond the creation of Ellie, and even as I curse Moffat for all the feels I can acknowledge that he and Gatiss are two amazing writers. All credit goes to them and etc., yada, yada, yada, have a great week everybody! And thanks again to laureleaf for being a fantastic beta!**


	9. George (age 5)

Eleanor Watson sighed as she wandered away from her Uncle Mycroft's side. He had wanted to show her where he worked at Whitehall, but their tour had been interrupted when a few stuffy adults had showed up and insisted on talking with Uncle Myc. While he was dealing with their questions, Ellie was looking around and dangerously on her way to becoming Bored when she saw a boy who looked to be only a year or so older than her.

Smiling brilliantly she crossed the room and held out her hand to him.

"Hello. My name's Ellie. What's yours?"

"I'm George," the brunette boy grinned back.

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks, I like yours too. What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting my Uncle Myc. He wanted to show me where he worked. Why are you here?"

"Oh me? I live here! Hey, do you want to come play with me?" George asked eagerly.

"I'm not sure I can," Eleanor frowned. "I don't think Uncle Myc wanted me going anywhere without him. Let me go ask him?" Eleanor glanced down the hall to where her uncle was talking with an old man wearing too much cologne. Eleanor cocked her head, remembering her lessons from Uncle 'Lock and examined the man. Military past from the haircut, wealthy, two marriages, one divorced and the other…dead? Small pin on the lapel of his coat…a red, white, and blue flag. Definitely _not_ British. An American then. The American ambassador, Eleanor theorized.

"Sure, I'll wait here!" George said eagerly.

"Okay!" Eleanor took off down the hallway, coming to a stop just as she reached her uncle and waiting patiently for him to finish talking with the adults as she had been taught. When the other man had left Eleanor finally dared to speak.

"Uncle Myc?" Eleanor asked, pulling gently on the leg of his pants expectantly.

"Yes my dear?" Mycroft glanced down, smiling genuinely at his precious niece.

"Can I play with George?"

"Who?"

"George," Eleanor turned and pointed down the hallway to where her new friend was still waiting patiently.

Mycroft's eye twitched slightly at the sight of His Royal Highness Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge waiting for Eleanor Juliette Watson to come and play with him.

For a brief moment his mind flashed to the future, envisioning a migraine-inducing event where George and Eleanor grew up and somehow became betrothed. As though the last royal wedding hadn't been a nightmare enough on it's own to handle security for, but having _Sherlock_ at a _royal_ wedding! Sherlock, who would no doubt experiment on the royal guards, deduce the foreign guests, poison the cake, interrupt the ceremony, steal the wedding rings, insult the queen, and all while in his sheet! It would be an unmitigated disaster!

And darling Lady Eleanor…as much as Mycroft was devoted to his job, royalty was simply _not_ good enough for his niece! She was too smart, too clever, filled with too much Holmesian potential despite not being a Holmes by blood. Such potential simply could _not_ be wasted on a royal. Perhaps someday Prime Minister, although if Mycroft were to be completely honest, he would prefer to groom Eleanor to someday take over his position as the British government.

Mycroft's mind abruptly returned to the present as he felt another sharp tug on his pants leg.

"Please may I play, Uncle Myc?" Eleanor asked softly, her expression less hopeful after Mycroft's extended silence.

"Of course, my dear," Mycroft said promptly. "Just be careful."

"Okay Uncle Myc! Have fun talking with the am-bass'der from Mer-ica," Eleanor said eagerly. "I'm sorry about his wife, I bet she was nice!"

If Mycroft were a lesser man his mouth would have fallen open at this correct deduction from a five-year-old, but he held his ground and nodded to the child as she turned and raced back to Prince George.

"Uncle Myc says I can play!" Eleanor announced happily.

"Uncle who?"

"My Uncle Myc," Eleanor pointed back down the hallway to the brolly wielding man who was now watching the two children closely. "He's really fun! Sometimes he plays hide-and-seek with me using the CCTV!"

"The what?"

"I don't know; it's this movie thing. It's really fun, and it follows you _everywhere_ in London!"

"Cool," George said with wide-opened eyes. "He sounds as fun as my great-grandma!"

"What's she like?"

"She's the best! She takes me horseback riding sometimes and tells me about what the palace was like when _she_ was a little girl. Do you want to meet her?"

"Sure!"

"She'll probably want you to join the Girl Guides," George said solemnly.

"The what?"

"Scouts."

"Oh…what does a scout do?"

"Hiking, rope-tying, climbing, shooting, building fires, and other stuff like that," the six-year-old answered promptly.

"I know how to tie ropes already!" Eleanor said excitedly.

"You do?" George asked in surprise.

"Uh huh, my Uncle 'Lock's been teaching me," Eleanor said proudly.

"Could you show me? Dad says I can't start scouting until next year," George pouted.

"Sure! Do you know where we can find some rope? Oh, or maybe some sheets!" Eleanor squealed with excitement.

"Sheets?"

"Uh huh. Then we can make a sheet rope!"

"I know where we can find some!"

"What are we waiting for?" Eleanor asked excitedly. Grinning at her, George reached down and grabbed ahold of her hand tightly and tugged her along after him down the hallway. Too soon both of the young children were racing each other to the linen closet while Mycroft experienced a minor heart attack watching them go. Shifting his eyes to the left he caught the gaze of one of his many, _many_ underlings and glanced back to the children. Understanding his orders clearly, Agent 21 nodded and excused himself politely from the conversation that he was currently involved in and discreetly left the room, walking down the hallway purposefully as he kept the niece of his employer and the great-grandson of his monarch under watch.

"We're being followed," Ellie whispered to George.

"Huh?" George frowned, looking nervously to his new friend.

"There's a man who's been following us. He isn't doing anything but watch us," Ellie informed the prince.

"He could just be one of the security guards," George pointed out. "They follow me _all_ the time."

"Then why hasn't he come said hello to us?" Ellie inquired. "He hasn't even been staying close to us. He just keeps looking at us and fingering the gun in his jacket."

"How do you know he has a gun?" George asked.

"My Uncle 'Lock taught me how to notice things. Do your regular guards carry guns?"

"I don't know," the six-year-old admitted.

"Well I don't trust him," Ellie said firmly. "And he doesn't _look_ like one of Uncle Myc's."

"What do they look like?"

"Tired and good. He's awake and bad."

"We should go find my mum and dad. They'll know what to do," George offered.

"But what if that's what he wants? _Think,_ George," Ellie encouraged, repeating the words that her Uncle 'Lock had often inspired her with.

"Well…what do you think we should do?"

"We've got the rope," Ellie whispered.

"The one we left in the closet?"

"Yeah. Let's pretend to play hide-and-seek. You know the palace best, so you go to the closet, get the rope and bring it back here, okay?"

"But what if he tries to get you while I'm gone?"

"I'll be fine. You just get out of here and get the rope," Ellie ordered.

"All right. So you want to play hide-and-seek, Ellie?" George asked, raising his voice theatrically loud.

"Sure George," Ellie grinned, raising her voice as well, although not quite as loudly.

"Great! You stay here and I'll go hide," George ordered. Ellie nodded eagerly then made a show of covering her eyes. She heard her friend run from the room, but she remained still, counting out loud but really listening as the man she had noticed approached her, not following after George as she had worried. Listening carefully, she knew when the man who had been following her and George stepped into the room and moved closer to her. Opening her eyes, Ellie whirled around and ran at the stranger.

"Stranger danger!" Ellie screamed as she clasped her hands together into one solid fist and slammed it forward into the tall man's groin. The man's hands dropped down, a pained moan escaping him. Ellie leaped forward, hitting him again, and still shouting at the top of her lungs.

"Uncle Myc!" she called as the man took a step towards her, trying to catch her.

"Stupid brat," he grumbled beneath his breath.

"Meanie!" she accused, kicking out at him and managing to leave a nice bruise on his shin.

"Ellie!" George shouted, tripping into the room, his hands filled with a ten-foot length of sheets tied together.

"Get him, George!" Ellie shouted in encouragement. George, wanting to impress his new playmate, leaped at their would-be assailant, knocking the man to the floor. Ellie, working quickly, caught up the sheet-rope and started to wrap it around the agent, using the knots that her poppa had taught her. She had just finished tying the last one, George sitting happily on the unmoving man's back, when another man in a sharp suit carrying a posh umbrella entered the room.

"_What_ is going on here?" Mycroft Holmes demanded. To the children he sounded indifferent and bored. To his employee who was currently tied up on the floor he sounded like Satan on a vengeance spree.

"We caught the bad guy!" Lady Eleanor declared cheerfully, Prince George beaming next to her. The young prince had never had so much fun, even if it had been scary when he came back with the rope and saw Ellie fighting.

"You caught one of the agents assigned to protect you," Mycroft said coolly with the lift of one of his eyebrows.

"Oh," Ellie's face fell. "But I thought he was a bad man?"

"No Eleanor. I asked him to keep an eye on you and Your Highness," Mycroft bowed lightly to the brunette boy.

"I'm sorry," Lady Eleanor addressed her Uncle Myc before turning to the agent still tied up at her feet.

"Sorry Mr. Agent," she repeated herself, George echoing her.

"Not at all," Agent 21 said, sounding a little winded.

"I believe a more appropriate apology would be to release him," Mycroft said pointedly.

"Oh right," Lady Eleanor nodded before making quick work of the knots, setting the poor man free.

"You seem tired. I believe that it would be in your _best_ _interest_ to take the next few weeks off. Might I suggest the post in Siberia?" Mycroft smiled coldly, speaking through clenched teeth. The agent gulped and nodded once.

"Understood sir."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Agent 21 retreated from the room quickly, not looking at the two small children as he left. Lord help him, there was no way that this incident wouldn't make it to the break room. Being sent to Siberia was supposed to be a punishment, but at least it would get him out of the harassment that would come from having been beaten by a five-year-old girl and the crown prince.

"Now as for you two…" Mycroft trailed off, turning to his niece and sovereign.

"We tied him up," Ellie declared proudly. George, grinning eagerly next to her, nodded.

"It was amazing! He didn't see us coming!" the young prince cheered.

"Of course, Your Highness," Mycroft strained himself to smile at the prince before turning to Lady Eleanor.

"And why exactly did you think it was a good idea to attack the man?"

"He was following us and didn't look like one of yours," Eleanor said imperiously. "I didn't like him, so I told George that we should use our rope to tie him up."

"And where did you get the rope?"

"We made it from some sheets," Lady Eleanor explained proudly. "Uncle 'Lock showed me how to do it."

"I'll have to remember to _thank_ your uncle," Mycroft said through clenched teeth. Just what else had his irresponsible little brother taught this impressionable child?

"Poppa showed me how to tie the knots," Ellie added.

"Ah yes, your _Poppa_," Mycroft continued to force a smile. It would not do to displease his niece, even as he fought off the desire to go blow up Barkishan or binge on beignets.

"Speaking of your family, your father and Uncle Sherlock have finished their work for the day. They will be arriving momentarily to pick you up," Mycroft informed the child.

Both George and Ellie pouted at this announcement.

"Can't she stay a bit longer? I wanted her to meet great-grandmum," George complained.

"Perhaps another time." Meaning: never.

"I suppose I can always come back to visit," Ellie said sadly before brightening as an idea occurred to her. "Or you could come visit my house!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! You'd love it! Mrs. Hudson makes the best cookies, and my Uncle Sherlock lives in the flat below me and I bet he could help us with an experiment! And my Poppa could show you how to tie knots like with our sheet rope!" Ellie explained excitedly.

"Cool! Let me go ask my mum and dad, all right?"

"Okay!"  
"Perhaps it would be better if _I_ presented the idea to your parents, Your Highness," Mycroft spoke up swiftly, trying to get the situation back under his control. "After I have…made sure that security procedures are up to proper standards."

"Oh. Okay," George nodded understandingly.

"Come now children, let's go and meet Mr. Holmes the younger and your father Eleanor. We wouldn't want them wandering around wondering where you are," Mycroft said, directing the children down the hallway.

"Okay Uncle Myc," Lady Eleanor beamed up at her uncle, grabbing George's hand in one of hers and taking Mycroft's in the other. If any passing employee happened to notice the "minor government official" leading the five-year-old girl and the six-year-old prince, they were all wise enough to make no comment.

* * *

"Ellie!"

"Poppa!" Ellie squealed with excitement, scrambling into her father's arms and winding her little arms around his neck tightly.

"No hello for your Uncle 'Lock?" Sherlock asked with a theatrical pout.

"Hi Uncle 'Lock! Did you catch the bad guys?" Ellie asked, turning with an eager smile to her uncle.

"You know it," John said proudly. It had been a Very Good day. The successful solving of a seven and the eventual chasing and catching of a young burglar had satisfied Sherlock's need for stimulation and John's desire to prove himself still in tip-top shape. Of course, anyone who parents an active five-year-old would know that there is no such thing as being out of shape while keeping up with their shenanigans.

"What about you, sweetie?" John asked his daughter with a smile. "Did you have a good day with your Uncle Myc?"

"More importantly did you leave the surprises that I asked you too?" Sherlock asked, lowering his voice so Mycroft wouldn't overhear them.

"I had a great day Poppa! I made a new friend and practiced the Carrick Bend that you showed me!"

"What about the surprises?" Sherlock persisted.

"She was swept for bugs before we had even left Baker Street, Sherlock," Mycroft said idly from the front step where he continued to stand at a distance with George. "Honestly, using a child for your dirty work. The depths that you will sink to."

"It was simply an experiment," Sherlock shrugged indifferently, not truly upset that his attempt to bug Mycroft's office hadn't worked. He had no real desire to know how his brother spent his day; it was more in seeing how Ellen would work as a carrying agent. He couldn't really blame the girl for his brother's paranoia.

"What's this about a new friend?" John asked with amusement.

"George," Ellie turned back to point at the young boy who waved eagerly. John tightened his grip on his little girl, not really believing that his own daughter had spent the day playing with a prince.

"Bye George! I hope I see you soon!"

"Bye Ellie! Come back and play! I'll tell great-grandmum all about you!" George promised.

Sherlock reached out a hand to steady John without being asked, turning a questioning eye to his elder brother.

"It seems that you had an amusing day after all," he observed.

"Don't get any ideas, Sherlock," Mycroft warned before addressing John. "Perhaps it is best that you leave now? Lady Eleanor has had a long day and I'm sure a nap is required."

"Er, right. Thanks again for watching her Mycroft," John said, giving him a small wave before opening the cab door and settling Ellie inside. "I really…appreciate it."

"But of course. Sherlock," Mycroft nodded his head once in farewell.

"Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson requested that I inform you that your presence is expected at the flat this Sunday. Something about family dinner," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I shall be there promptly at one. Is it formal or bed sheet?" Mycroft asked snidely.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," John called over his shoulder, grabbing Sherlock by the shoulder and shoving him towards the cab. "Come on then, little girl who needs a nap, remember?"

"Yes, yes John," Sherlock snapped impatiently, climbing into the cab after his friend and blogger.

"Mary's not going to believe this," John shook his head as the cab pulled away from Whitehall, Ellie looking over her poppa's shoulder to wave one last time at her new friend.

"Mr. Mycroft?" the young boy asked as he and Mycroft watched the car merge into London traffic.

"Yes Your Highness?"

"_Please_ can your niece come visit again? She's fun!"

Mycroft hid his wince from the young prince even as he nodded reluctantly.

Prince George whooped with excitement and took off back into the palace while Mycroft continued to stand outside, beginning to think up contingency plans to ensure that his younger brother would be kept as far from the palace and the royal family as possible.


	10. Broken Heart (age 14)

Sherlock glanced at the clock and frowned. Ellen had promised to assist him with his experiments at precisely five'o'clock, yet it was now 5:45 and she was nowhere to be seen. Such tardiness was uncommon in the intelligent teenager.

"ELLEN!" Sherlock bellowed, his voice reverberating out of 221B and through the rest of the building. Down below, he could hear Mrs. Hudson grumbling something about he and manners (unimportant) but nothing from the Watson apartment. Scowling, Sherlock rose from his seat on the couch and strode out of his abode, making headway for 221A.

As he climbed the stairs he kept his ears perked for any sound of the inhabitant within. Mary was still at the hospital and John was working at the clinic, as he did on occasion when not assisting Sherlock with The Work. Ellen would be upstairs alone.

After sixteen years of training, Mary Watson had instilled in Sherlock Holmes a respect for knocking on the door before entering the flat. He acted on his training now, knocking before pushing the door of 221A open and stepping into the small hallway that led to the living room.

Gladstone _growled_ as Sherlock entered the main room, the dog having grown to an impressive bulk that was majority muscle. But Sherlock's eyes were not on the Tornjak, but rather on the fourteen-year-old curled up on the couch. He began to analyze the data before him immediately: jacket discarded in a hurry, torn pictures of two smiling youths littering the floor, hair falling from normally meticulous braid, face paler than normal, mascara tracks down her cheeks, and eyes rimmed with red. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to get a better look at the pictures on the floor. Ellen Watson and Tyler Blake.

Tyler Blake had made his goddaughter cry.

"What did that worthless piece of vermin say to you?" Sherlock demanded coldly.

"Leave me alone," Ellen hiccupped, not looking up at her godfather.

"No. What did that repulsive reptilian say to make you cry?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Eleanor Juliette Watson –"

"Sherlock Augustus Holmes, I said _leave me alone_. Ugh, why are all men such _pigs_?" Ellen shouted. With tears in her eyes, she jumped up from the couch and ran from the room.

"Gladstone, come!"

With a parting growl at the shell-shocked and unmoving detective, Gladstone loped after his mistress who promptly slammed her bedroom door shut after he had joined her.

Sherlock's mouth flopped open in shock. How…? Where…? Who had _dared_ to tell her his middle name? Not even Mycroft would be so cruel!

But _no_, the problem at hand was not the leak in information. First problem to solve would be _what_ exactly that worthless piece of scum had done to his brilliant, precious Ellen.

Sherlock Holmes prepared to go to war.

He entered his Mind Palace, sprinting for the floor that was dedicated to the Watson family. In the large room that Ellen had been gifted with at her birth there was a small off-shoot closet that information about Tyler had been shoved into so as to avoid unintentionally upsetting Ellen.

With any luck he would be allowed to shred, burn, and permanently delete this information later tonight.

But for now, Tyler Blake. Fifteen-years-old, disgustingly sub-par. Sherlock had disliked him instantly, and it had nothing to do with the fact that at the time when they first met Tyler had been attempting to place hands on his goddaughter. He was excellent at sports and knew it, expected to receive several invitations to national teams when he became of age. Considered attractive from the teenage female standpoint. Unintelligent with the grades to prove it. Enamored with Ellen's looks, heavily intimidated by her intelligence yet not against taking advantage of it (Sherlock had been forbidden to ever bring up the chemistry homework incident ever again), no knowledge of her own work in the realm of athletics (fencing, sanshou, jujutsu, street fighting, shooting, with the occasional dabble in parkour at Sherlock's insistence). Also an extreme dislike of Gladstone, with the Tornjak returning the sentiment, growling every time that Tyler came into the flat.

A waste of time when she could have been experimenting in Sherlock's opinion, but he had been informed by Mary Watson, Molly Hooper, _and_ Mrs. Hudson that if he ruined the relationship for Ellen there would be consequences. "Cromwell the skull being permanently removed from the flat and losing all access to St. Bart's for the foreseeable future" style consequences. And then there were Mary's threats…even Sherlock was unsure if what she had threatened was anatomically possible, but he been disinclined to test _that_ hypothesis.

But _he_ had not caused the problem. Tyler Blake had. Whatever happened next, Sherlock could successfully claim innocence in the matter. But first he had to call in the necessary reinforcements.

Sherlock pulled his mobile out and dialed a familiar number.

"Sherlock."

"Mycroft."

"To what do I owe the pleasure –"

"I do not have time for banalities Mycroft. Ellen has locked herself in her room with Gladstone, refuses to leave, and has ripped apart several photos of herself and Tyler Blake. I require more information before proceeding."

"Pulling up the CCTV footage of her now," Mycroft replied smoothly. "Emailing to your account. My suggestion would be to contact Mrs. Hudson and have her on hand until I can clear the remainder of Doctor Hooper's work schedule. The Doctors Watson are on route from work now."

"Suggestion noted." _And for once not deleted_, Sherlock thought to himself.

"Oh and Sherlock?"

"Yes?" the younger Holmes drawled.

"Do not make this worse for the girl. Get Mrs. Hudson up there and _get out_."

Sherlock hung up on Mycroft and exited the flat. He went first to Mrs. Hudson who set immediately to baking fresh biscuits to take up to the poor girl. He then traversed the stairs to his own flat, snatching up his laptop from the coffee table and ignoring the bubbling sound coming from the experiment he had started at the kitchen table. Pulling up his email he clicked open the files that Mycroft had sent him and watched silently as his niece's life from the last three hours was played out before him.

There she was at the coffee shop where he had first witnessed her with Tyler. She sat waiting for him for twenty minutes before he finally appeared. There was another girl with him, clearly not related judging by the size and shape of her nose as well as the shock of red hair that clashed with Tyler's brown curls.

The redhead and Tyler stood talking with Ellen for five minutes before turning and walking away, leaving Ellen alone at the table. Sherlock leaned closer, narrowing his eyes as he watched his niece stand up and throw some money on the table. She walked out of the coffee shop and the camera angles began to switch, following her progress as she walked almost drunkenly from the coffee shop to 221 Baker Street. On more than one occasion one of the members of the Homeless Network came up to her, supposedly asking if she was all right and needed assistance getting home. She turned each of them away, putting on a false smile that hurt Sherlock's heart. Ellen stumbled her way to Baker Street and once again the cameras shifted, moving to inside the flat (Sherlock would have to have a few words with his brother about their presence later). She made her way past Mrs. Hudson's door, past Sherlock's flat, and was just outside the Watson home when she fell to her knees, her entire body shaking as she sobbed. When she opened the door she was met with a worried Gladstone who stood still as his mistress cried into his fur.

The clips ended and Sherlock closed his laptop with a frown.

Tyler Blake was going to die. Slowly, painfully, and creatively. No one would ever find the body, and even if they did there would be no trace of who had committed the murder. Sherlock would make sure of that.

Although he would never admit it out loud, there were certain aspects to life that Sherlock Holmes did not understand. He did not understand why people found John's blog to be so entertaining, why stupid television shows ran for multiple series (while semi-intelligent ones were cancelled after a few episodes), or why anyone would allow his oaf of a brother to have any sort of governmental power. Sherlock also did not understand in the slightest how such an insipid plebian could do so much damage to his precious niece. He didn't understand why this intelligent, beautiful, strong young woman was so broken up over the unfaithfulness of an idiotic, rude, _barely_ pubescent Cro-Magnon.

What he _did_ understand though, was that if Tyler Blake had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever he would be at least as far away as Russia by now. Not that it would do him any good.

* * *

Drs. John and Mary Watson arrived home from work on time to find their flat invaded. Sherlock was lurking in the living room, his head bent over his laptop with D.I. Lestrade at his side. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen, in the process of sliding a tray of biscuits out of the oven.

"Something you all want to tell us?" John asked, taking Mary's coat from her and glancing at his friends.

"Plotting death, you'll want to help," Lestrade said promptly.

"Does someone want to start explaining?" Mary asked with raised eyebrows. "Also, is Ellie back from her date with Tyler yet? She said this morning that she wasn't sure if they were going to get dinner after their movie."

The non-Watsons exchanged dark glances.

"What happened?" John demanded, picking up instantly on the dark mood.

"Where's Ellie?" Mary asked, looking to Mrs. Hudson for her answers.

"She's in her room, dear. She's been there ever since Sherlock came to talk to her."

"Sherlock!" John and Mary rounded on their friend instantly. Before they could ask their question a knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it," Sherlock shoved his laptop into Lestrade's fumbling hands and bounded through the room and past the glowering Watsons.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," Molly apologized as Sherlock opened the door for her.

"What did you stop for that caused you such delay?" Sherlock frowned as he skeptically eyed the grocery bag that she clutched to her side. "Ice cream? What on Earth do we need that for?"

"It's for Ellie. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"Ellen is in her room with Gladstone. Mycroft has had her watched and is assured that she has not left the room."

"Good, now tell that brother of yours to call the eyes off. No girl deserves to have her first breakup recorded for everyone to see," Molly ordered before striding past Sherlock and smiling at the Watsons.

"Hi Mary, John. Sorry it took me so long to get here," Molly apologized once again, but stopped when she saw the expressions on their face.

"What's that look for?" she inquired.

"What do you mean, 'breakup'?" John demanded thunderously.

"I told you mate, you're going to want to help plan this one. Sherlock's got a crazy idea and I'm trying to make him see reason, but you _know_ what that's like," Lestrade called over.

"What does he need to see reason about_ now_?" John crossed the living room to Lestrade in a huff while Mary turned to Molly.

"Tell me what's going on?" she asked in a low voice while the men started to discuss.

"I don't know all the details, but Tyler broke up with Ellie. Apparently in a brutal and public way. Sherlock called in backup so I brought ice cream," Molly nodded to the bag that she still held in her hands.

"Here dearies, I'll go put it in the freezer, you go get our girl," Mrs. Hudson dithered, stepping forward and taking the bag from Molly. "Oh good, this will go perfectly with the biscuits, I just need to let them cool for a bit. You get Ellie out here and we'll be all set."

"Of course Mrs. Hudson," Molly smiled taking Mary by the hand. "Come on dear, let's go get that daughter of yours."

Mary and Molly went quietly down the hallway to Ellie's room. From behind they could hear the sound of Sherlock explaining to John what he had found and playing the video for he and Lestrade.

Coming to a halt outside of Ellie's bedroom door Molly knocked twice and waited patiently.

"Please go away, Uncle Sherlock," a hoarse voice called from the other side.

"Ellie? Sweetie, it's Aunt Molly. Please, would you open the door for me? Your mum's here as well," Molly called softly. There was a pause and then the door cracked open.

"Aunt Molly?" Ellie asked, her voice wobbling dangerously. "Mum?"

"Oh…come here sweetheart," Molly held her arms out to her niece.

"It hurts. You and Mum…you never said it would hurt this much," Ellie sobbed, stepping briefly into the loving embrace of the older woman before turning to her mum.

"Oh Ellie," Mary murmured, taking her daughter into her arms and murmuring softly to her.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. I'm so sorry," Mary spoke into her daughter's hair, holding the fourteen-year-old close as fresh tears spilled over.

"He hurt me, Mum. I didn't…I never expected…why would he do this to me? What did I do wrong?" Ellie begged, lifting her face to look first at her mother and then at her aunt.

"Absolutely nothing!" the two women cried at once.

"Eleanor Juliette Watson, you are a wonderful young woman, a true gem. You are smart, kind, brave, beautiful –" Mary insisted.

"A freak," Ellie interrupted sadly.

"Not at all," Molly was quick to disagree. "Not in the least! If anything you're just like your mum and I were at your age."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," her mother agreed before adding, "You know that I was moving around always since your grandfather, may he rest in peace, was in the army. It was hard for me to make friends, let alone have a lasting relationship. And when I was six I knew more about guns and military maneuvers than how to hold a proper tea party."

"Yeah…I guess Uncle Myc did at least teach me how to have a proper tea," Ellie admitted, remembering with a tentative smile all of the tea parties that her uncle had hosted.

"You know I'm sure I still have the pictures from those tea parties somewhere," Mary started the beginning of an old family joke.

"Not unless he confiscated them," Ellie finished. The three women laughed, although Ellie's was not as heartfelt as it normally was. Mary smiled sadly at her daughter and pulled her back in for another hug, holding her little girl (although not so little and no so much of a girl anymore) close.

"Who else is here?" Ellie asked after their few moments of silence were interrupted by the sound of John swearing violently from the living room.

"Nana Hudson, Uncle Lestrade, and Uncle Sherlock," Mary informed her. "Apparently Sherlock didn't know what to do so he called us all in."

"That's nice of him," Ellie observed quietly.

"I brought some ice cream if you're up for it," Molly offered. "Your favorite. And Mrs. Hudson was just taking out some biscuits when I got here a few minutes ago. And I'm sure if you asked your poppa would put some tea on."

"That sounds…nice," Ellie sighed.

"Come on love," Mary directed Ellie gently, leading her down the hallway to the main room. Ellie paused in embarrassment at the doorway and Mary nodded understandingly before stepping forward to address the gentlemen.

"Budge up gents, the ladies are commandeering the couch," Mary said stiffly, Ellie waiting in the background with Molly at her side.

"Ellie requires it?" Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

"She's out of her bedroom and wants some ice cream. The couch is more comfortable than the kitchen," Mary explained to the group at large before shooting her husband an explicit 'come talk to me' look.

"Right. Come on men, a war council can be held just as easily in the kitchen as it can be in here," John directed, standing up from the couch. Lestrade and Sherlock went to the kitchen, naturally, but John went to Mary first.

"How is she?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around Mary gently.

"She's hurting and doubting herself. I'm not sure what to do John," Mary admitted in just as hushed a tone. This was _not _how the Watsons had been planning to spend their evening. "I'm trying my best here, but it seems like the slightest thing might set her off."

"We'll get her through this," John reassured his wife, gave her another squeeze then turned to the doorway where he knew his daughter was.

"Ellie?"

"Poppa," Ellie stepped forward and practically threw herself into John's waiting arms. It had been years since Ellie had stopped using her childhood name for him, and to hear the old name spoken with such sadness…

Two emotions warred within John at that moment: pain for his daughter and fury at the idiot who dared to break her heart.

"I'm right here Ellie. I'm right here. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so very much."

"I know. Why…?" Ellie couldn't bring herself to finish the question, opting instead to hold on even tighter to her beloved Poppa. He hugged her back, vaguely noting that in the background Sherlock and Lestrade were set up in the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Mary were already settled on the couch with ice cream and fresh biscuits.

"I don't know sweetie, but it's his loss. Don't you ever doubt that. You're my brave, beautiful, brilliant girl and it's his loss completely," John repeated. Ellie gave him one last tight squeeze then stepped back, smiling up at him with watery eyes.

"Thanks Poppa."

"Anything for my girl. Now go eat a biscuit. Your uncles and I have a…little project to take care of," John said mysteriously.

"You're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Not completely," John admitted.

"Unless you want us to," Sherlock called from the kitchen. Ellie laughed a little at her godfather's antics before shaking her head.

"That's…that's all right Uncle 'Lock," Ellie called back. She glanced up at her father and sighed.

"I think I need some ice cream," she admitted.

"Triple chocolate. Just what the doctors ordered," Mary said, standing up from the couch and coming over to her husband and daughter, offering her girl a spoon. Ellie took it and smiled at her family, the entire extended bunch.

"That sounds perfect."

* * *

Not much later, Mycroft Holmes entered the flat, his brolly in one hand and a vanilla folder tucked beneath his other arm.

"I was led to understand that there was a 'council of war' taking place?" he inquired glancing around coldly before his eyes settled on Eleanor. They warmed briefly, hardening when John stepped into the room and nodded at him.

"Hello Mycroft, took you long enough. Don't feel bad though, we're not all here yet. Sherlock, Lestrade, and I are set up in the kitchen though if you want to join us," John offered.

"I first wish to check on Eleanor," Mycroft admitted. He passed the folder to John (yet kept his umbrella with him, of course) and strode into the living room. He did not take a seat but merely stared at Eleanor.

"How are you feeling my dear?" he asked in what Eleanor knew to be his most caring tone. To anyone else, it would sound cold and detached with a sinister edge of politeness. But Eleanor knew better, she had heard that tone all of her life after all.

"Hi Uncle Myc. I…I've been better," Ellie admitted. She was flanked on either side by her mother and Aunt Molly, there was a tub of ice cream in front of her on the coffee table with a plate of still warm biscuits next to it. Mycroft nodded once before reaching into the depths of his mind and coming up with the best advice he could possibly give to the heartbroken girl.

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not always an advantage, Eleanor," Mycroft spoke solemnly. He stopped himself from smiling and waited for the positive acknowledgement of this true statement.

The rest of the room went silent, everyone staring at the British Government. There was a silent exchange between the females in the living room before Mrs. Hudson took the lead (in part due to her being the closest to the man). Rolling up the magazine she had been absentmindedly perusing while Ellie and Molly chatted on the couch she approached Mycroft and proceeded to whack him over the head with it, all while proclaiming as she did so:

"Shame on you, Mycroft Holmes!"

"Apologies, apologies!" Mycroft backed away quickly, not daring to strike or snap back at the formidable woman. British government be damned, in this motley, pulled together family Martha Hudson was the undisputed matriarch who was to be obeyed and respected at all times.

Once Martha Holmes was done with Mycroft (leaving the man standing in a state of shock), John took pity (a little) on him and came to Mycroft's side, placing an arm on his shoulder and guiding the elder Holmes towards the kitchen of the flat where he, Lestrade, and Sherlock were conversing.

"Better part of valor, Mycroft, retreat," John advised, glancing uneasily at the murderous expression on his beloved's face that was mirrored by Molly and Mrs. Hudson. Mary Watson had a terrifying temper of her own, but she normally did a splendid job of keeping it in check. But now that her baby was hurt and she had the backup of her best friend and her mother-figure…Tyler Blake better be praying that the _men_ found him before the women did.

Mycroft followed John to the kitchen where Lestrade and Sherlock were still huddled around the slowly growing number of laptops and security footage.

"Still a master with words," Sherlock observed snidely.

Before Mycroft could return with a cutting remark he was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door.

"And that would be the last guest," John observed, going to answer the front door. He barely had the time to open the door before a whirlwind of maroon-red jumper and brown hair ran into the room.

"Hi other-Dad, thanks for giving me the call," Ellie's best friend Dawn Gibson said absentmindedly, briefly glancing at John before she turned to face the rest of the flat. She briefly nodded in greeting at the various adults before her eyes zeroed in on her best friend.

"I got your text too. Oh Ellie…" Dawn jumped over Gladstone who had come to greet her, slipped past Mrs. Hudson and practically threw herself on top of Ellie, giving her a tight hug.

"You were right," Ellie whispered, hugging Dawn back. "My God, you were so right about him. Why didn't I listen to you? Why was I so stupid?"

"You weren't, he was," Dawn insisted, speaking soothingly. "He was a tool, a jerk, and an egotistical douchebag, and you're a prize that he would never in a million years deserve. What stage are you at?"

"Aunt Molly brought ice cream," Ellie sniffed, giggling a little at Dawn's question.

"Perfect! Are you still blaming yourself and need a pep talk or do we get to talk about what an asshole he is and how your next boyfriend is going to be _at least_ ten times better?" Dawn asked, sliding off of Ellie and onto the couch (Mary having given up her seat), kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up to her chest for a nice long talk.

Ellie laughed again, this time a little stronger.

"Well when you put it that way…he was a jerk!" she shouted, her voice echoing a little in the flat.

"And an idiot," Dawn added gleefully. Molly stood up from the couch, moving out of the way so that the two best friends could be comfortable. Mary handed Dawn a spoon, smiling at the girl who had become like a second daughter to her.

"Thanks other-Mum," Dawn said off-handedly, grinning at Mary before proclaiming for everyone in the flat to hear that she had always believed Tyler to have problems with BO. At that pronouncement the three older woman abandoned the living room for the kitchen, giving the girls at least a semblance of privacy, even as they chuckled softly over the insults that were being heaped on Tyler Blake's head.

"He always wanted to copy my answers for chemistry!" Ellie added.

"And he still got the answers wrong!" Dawn chuckled.

"He tried to kick Gladstone once."

"Not your baby!" Dawn gasped in horror, reaching out to gather the dog in question into her arms. Gladstone woofed appreciatively before wriggling out of her arms to lay his head on Ellie's lap. Ellie scratched his ears lovingly, smiling goofily at the overgrown puppy.

"I know! That should have been the end of it! Hell, _I_ should have ended it!" Ellie exclaimed defiantly. "What the _hell_ was I thinking wasting my time with that loser and then letting _him_ dump _me_? I'm Eleanor Freaking Watson!"

"Too right you are! And he's Tyler Can't-Get-His-Head-Out-Of-His-Bum Blake!" Dawn cheered.

This pronouncement earned several hearty laughs from the kitchen. After calming down, Lestrade, Sherlock, Mycroft, and John stood up and took their leave. Mary shot a questioning look at him and he glanced pointedly at the living room before lowering his voice.

"You three and Dawn have everything under control here, love. But there's something that me and the boys need to take care of," John said reassuringly.

"A case?" Molly inquired innocently.

"A ten in regards to urgency," Sherlock growled.

"There are certain…behaviors towards one's family that cannot be permitted," Mycroft added coolly.

"And certain people should be aware of what is and is not to be accepted," Sherlock agreed.

"Oh would you two give it a rest. We're going to go scare the crap out of Tyler. Do any of you three want to come?" Lestrade asked, tired of the Holmes brothers and their way of dancing around the truth.

"No, but thanks. Have fun with your male bonding boys," Mary chuckled.

"Should I prep the morgue for an autopsy?" Molly asked curiously.

"I'm sure between us we can come up with enough for bail for one of them, at least. Who do we want to rescue?" Mrs. Hudson added, looking conspiratorially to the other women.

"Oh that won't be necessary Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft smiled like a shark who had scented blood in the water. "_Everything_ shall be taken care of. Shall we gentlemen?"

"Lead the way."

**A/N For the record Tyler Blake was not killed, and none of them were arrested. However…well let's just say that mental warfare can be fun as can relocating someone's family to Antarctica for the sake of a job. No one messes with Ellie. **

**Sorry it took so long to get this one up, but things have been nightmarish lately. The ideas are still coming though, and in fact I'll be explaining how Ellie met Dawn in the next chapter!**

**Please feel free to tell me what you think of this chapter in the comments or PM me if you have a request for an Ellie and uncles adventure!**


	11. Bullied (age 12)

"Hi Mum, hi Dad!" Ellie Watson called out in a rush as she hurried through the front room of 221A Baker Street to her bedroom. Not fast enough though.

"Hold it right there, young lady," Mary Watson ordered, using a tone of voice that John hadn't heard since he'd been a cadet in boot camp. He glanced up from his newspaper to see what had caused his wife to shout and nearly swore at the sight of his child.

"What happened?" John demanded, standing up from his chair and heading immediately to the cabinet in the kitchen where he kept his medic bag.

"What? You mean…oh well…I fell –"

"Eleanor Juliette Watson, don't you dare lie to your father and I. You've got a black eye for heaven's sake! What happened to you?" Mary asked, her anger proving a good mask for the worry she felt seeing her daughter hurt.

"I told you, I fell down," Ellie insisted, standing awkwardly as John approached her. Working quickly, John pressed an icepack to Ellie's bruised eye and began to check over her. He could tell by the way that she was standing that she was having some trouble breathing, and while the bruises covering her arms were disturbing, they were secondary to his fear that she had cracked her ribs.

"Does this hurt?" John asked, pressing lightly against her chest. Ellie took a deep breath in, but shook her head.

"Doesn't hurt. Just a little sore," she insisted.

"A little sore from when you fell?" Mary asked sarcastically.

"_Yes_," Ellie snapped.

"Don't talk to your mother in that tone Ellie," John warned as he wrapped his daughter's ribs carefully.

"Sorry Dad. But I _fell_," Ellie shot a pointed look at her mother who's anger and concern were starting to battle for supremacy.

"Tell us the truth Eleanor," John spoke softly, leaning back so that he could look his daughter in the eyes.

"I. Fell. Down," Ellie insisted coldly, not blinking as she matched her father stare for stare.

"That's it, I didn't want to have to do this. I'm going to get Sherlock," Mary snapped, storming out of the room

"Wait, what!" Ellie and John yelped, looking away from each other to watch Mary leave.

"I can't believe I have to ask a consulting detective for help in figuring out what's wrong with my own daughter, but if you're not going to be honest…" Mary grumbled as she exited the flat.

"I'm not lying! I did fall down!" Ellie shouted to her mother's back, but Mary was already down the stairs, slamming into 221B. Vaguely John and Ellie could hear Mary shouting at Sherlock to come upstairs. Eleanor glanced nervously at her father who only sighed and shook his head at his daughter.

"You do realize that saying you "tripped and fell down" is the oldest excuse in the book, right?"

"But Dad –"

"Ellie, you're smart. You get that from your mum and I. You could have come up with a better excuse than falling down for why you got into a fight. And don't try to tell me that you weren't in a fight, young lady. I've been in fights before and I know what the aftereffects look like. And it looks to me like you got in quite a few good hits. Did you remember to keep your thumb tucked in like I showed you?"

Ellie smiled at her father and nodded.

"Used a bit of sanshou too," she admitted.

"That's my girl," John winked at her.

"John Hamish Watson, don't you _dare_ encourage her in that kind of behavior!" Mary Watson's voice echoed up the staircase and into the flat living room. Ellie and John shared looks of dumbstruck horror.

"Yeah, sometimes I forget your mum has ears like a bat," John muttered, mostly to himself.

"I heard that!" Mary snapped as she entered the room, dragging Sherlock in after her.

"Honestly Mary, _why_ do you require me to look after Ellen? John is the doctor, not I…" Sherlock's voice trailed off as he fully looked at his goddaughter. He said not a word, staring at her, deducing everything. Ellen bit down on her lip, hard. As a little girl she had loved when Uncle Sherlock turned his razor sharp gaze on her, detailing her entire day and her thoughts without her having to say a single word. Now though, she stood in tense dread of the consequences of his deductions.

"Mary, I believe it would be prudent for you to go on a walk to cool your temper," Sherlock spoke carefully, his words painstakingly modulated.

"_What_?"

"Sherlock's right dear, you need to take a breather," John agreed, moving away from Ellie to place a hand on Mary's shoulder. Mary glared at the two men before taking another look at Eleanor. She took a deep breath and nodded once.

"Ten minutes. You have _ten_ minutes before I am back in this room. I expect the full truth one way or the other. Do you both understand me?" Mary Watson looked back and forth between Sherlock and Ellie.

"Yes Mum."

"Of course," Sherlock sniffed. Mary sighed and walked out of the living room, John following close behind her, only pausing at the door to give some last moment instructions.

"Put some ice on your bruises and find someplace to sit down. I don't want you moving too much. If have problems breathing, call the hospital and we'll meet you there. You understand young lady?"

"Yes Dad," Ellie nodded solemnly.

"Good. I'll talk to your mother. Behave, the both of you," John ordered before following after Mary. Sherlock and Ellen were silent, listening to the elder Watsons walk down the stairs and exit 221. When they faintly heard the front door close, only then did Ellie release her held-in sigh. Sherlock swept another look over her and nodded once.

"Couch."

"Yes, Uncle Sherlock," Ellie sighed once more, moving into the living room and sitting down on the couch gingerly.

"Your ribs?"

"Really hurt," Ellie admitted. "Not enough for the hospital though. They just…hurt."

"Well I imagine they would considering your activities at school today. Correct me if I am wrong: you faced off against three older students: fourteen-year-olds, one girl and two boys. You successfully avoided being punished by your school for fighting due to the ending of break and the attention of the teachers failing to land on you four…wait, no five, fighters. There was another fighting _with_ you, helping you. Interesting. Or at least attempting to help. She was rather useless in a fight, you may want to rethink your friendship.

"Regardless, you did quite well in your share of the fight. You bloodied two noses, almost broke the jaw of one with your elbow, and judging by the state of your jeans it is quite possible that those two boys will never reproduce. Good to see that you remembered some of my lessons on street-fighting. Your footwork could use some practice though. You truly did fall down, which is why you chose to use this line in evading your parents' questions so that you were not truly lying to them. Molly is trying to teach you ethics again, isn't she? You didn't regain your footing quickly enough, so while you were on the ground one of your assailants took the opportunity to kick you in the side, leading to the original injury to your ribs."

"Is that all?" Ellen asked dryly when Sherlock stopped for a breath at the end of his quickly delivered monologue.

"At one point you had your back to a brick wall, broke free, twisted one of their arms, was grabbed and slammed back against the wall, aggravating the injury to your ribs. It was at this point that the two boys held you against the wall and the girl blackened your eye, delivering another blow to your ribs. You fell once more due to inability to breathe and it was at this point that the previous girl jumped to your defense, only surviving for longer than ten seconds because the bell rang to return to class and the teachers began to look in your direction. Have I missed anything?"

"The fight started because they were making fun of her. She was new, had a birthmark on her face, they were being idiotic."

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered, interrupting. Ellen ignored him and continued talking as though he hadn't said a word.

"It was my…civic duty to voice my disagreement with them. End of story," Ellen glanced away. Sherlock regarded her closely for a moment before standing and walking into the small kitchen. He returned moments later with a fresh icepack.

"For your knuckles. Your father's predominate concern was the bruise on your face, but I know from experience that your hands will start aching soon, if they are not already," Sherlock explained at Ellen's questioning look.

Ellen nodded and settled the ice carefully on her bruised and battered hands, shivering a little at the soothing feeling of the cold. Sherlock sat back down next to her, studying her closely.

"We still have five more minutes until your mother returns. Now that we have ascertained that you were indeed in a fight, let us talk about the reason _why_ you were in a fight."

"I told you already, I was standing up for the new girl," Ellen said quickly. Sherlock shook his head in disagreement.

"While it is just like you to be like your father, having to be the hero," Sherlock sighed impatiently. "That is _not_ the end of the case. You would not resort to fighting unless you had no other option, especially against opponents who lack the training that you do. You are your parents' daughter through and through. You would not have started a fight unless they threw the first punch at you. _Or_ they insulted someone you cared deeply about, more than a new classmate…a family member perhaps?"

"Uncle Sherlock," Ellen whined, her tone indicating her desire for her uncle to _just drop it_.

"Except that you have no younger siblings or cousins to defend. No, you only have your father, mother, your uncles, and I to offer up as potential targets. Am I wrong?"

Ellen was silent.

"What did they say?"

Ellen turned away, hissing as she pressed the ice harder against her injured hand.

"They cannot have said anything worse about me behind my back than a hundred idiots before them have said to my face. Or have plastered all over the news," Sherlock observed wryly.

"Not _everything_ is about you, you know," Ellen muttered darkly.

"Ah, not me? They would not know about Mycroft, Lestrade is an unlikely target, so your parents then? Your father."

"Leave me alone."

"No. Tell me what they said."

"No," Ellen growled, glaring at Sherlock. Sherlock recalled to mind proper persuasion tactics and adopted a calmer, more understanding facial expression to mask the growing curiosity.

"Ellen, I can only help you if you tell me everything that happened," he said, feigning a patience that he had never possessed.

"But…I mean, it wasn't really that…that important," Ellen hedged.

"If it upset you enough to fight, then it is. Let me help you."

"You'll only get angry…"

"I promise to not do anything rash," Sherlock laid out this last bit of bait and closed his mouth, waiting, knowing that it wouldn't be long now.

"They…they…they said…"

Sherlock fought back the urge to fidget, impatient for Ellen to speak, but after twelve years of observation he knew that Ellen would tell him the truth if given the appropriate time.

"They said that…that Dad was a cripple. And that he was an idiot and your slave because he…he didn't care that…" Ellen began to speak faster, the words tumbling over each other as they fought to leave her mouth first.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"That you slept with Mum," Ellen whispered, face flaming with shame. "That I'm not a Watson. That that's why you and Uncle Mycroft are always hanging around doing stuff with me…and it's true, isn't it? I'm so much like you…it's not because I grew up with you two…or…or because I'm your niece, but because I…because I'm a Hol…because I'm _not_ a…not a _Watson_," Ellen stopped, unable to speak anymore as she became overcome with sobs.

Sherlock sat in stupefied silence, for once in his life completely unsure of what to say.

"And…and that's not it!" Ellen gasped, hugging her arms to her side as tears flowed down her cheeks. "As if it wasn't enough that…that they said those things to me…but they had to remind me that I'm _ruined_."

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock demanded, latching onto this new bit of information in a desperate bid to move past the awkward news that he was assumed to have had intercourse with Mary Watson.

"You heard me, 'ruined'," Ellen scoffed, some of her tears stopping as she became angry. She fixed a glare at Sherlock. "It's because of _you_. I go around…spouting these observations that you…you _brainwashed_ me into noticing and look like a showoff! I fight like a bloody ninja, and you know who wants to date a ninja? Nobody! I take karate when every other girl is taking ballet! I play with intestines and explosions when everyone else is playing video games! And I know about who's in jail and why they're there instead of who's on Britain's Got Talent, or anything _normal_ like that! I'm not normal! You! You and…and, and Uncle Myc and Uncle 'Strade and Aunt Molly and Mum and Dad! You all brainwashed me! You ruined me! I _never_ stood a chance at being normal! You're the reason that all of those kids at school call me a show off, or a know-it-all or a…a…a _f-freak_," Ellen gasped, a fresh round of tears starting anew.

Sherlock stiffened at the word, his mind betraying him and recalling scene after scene from his youth when _he_ was tormented by that loathsome word. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and reached out tentatively, wrapping his arms around Ellen as the young girl's entire body began to shake violently. He didn't say a word for a minute, only held her as she shook and cried, all of the pain in her young heart flowing out in hot tears. Only when her shaking began to subside and she caught her breath in short gasps did Sherlock dare to speak.

"I was not aware that you faced such hardships at school. I never observed…you never said a word about it," Sherlock said slowly, shame and embarrassment clear in his every word.

Ellen scoffed, although it lacked her usual amount of inner fire and determination.

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes sarcastically. "I tell you that I've got a few tormentors at school and the next thing I know Uncle Mycroft's giving me a bodyguard, Uncle Lestrade's got the entire police force waiting for me every day after school, and who knows what _you'd _come up with. Probably lock my teacher up somewhere and pretend to be the substitute," she muttered darkly, slurring her words and abandoning the proper English that Mycroft had taught her at the ripe young age of one and a half. "Fat lot of good that'll do me."

"Ellen."

"I'm not having tea with the Queen, Uncle Sherlock. I can talk however I want," Ellen snapped.

"I was _not_ going to reprimand you on your poor language choices, although I certainly may later. What I was _going_ to say is that you may trust me with your secrets. I will not tell anyone unless you bid me to do so. But in return, _you_ must be completely honest with me. Are we in agreement?"

Ellen took a few shaky breaths and wiped away a stray tear, all while watching him closely.

"What's the catch? There's always a hidden loophole or something with your deals."

"Tell me the truth of your current and past encounters with these ruffians, and I will tell you the truth of your parentage," Sherlock bartered, ignoring her question.

Ellen gulped, her eyes widening comically.

"Just why exactly does my daughter need to be informed of her parentage?"

* * *

**A/N Just wanted to say that there is a second part to this and that it will be up as soon as I'm done revising it. And once it is up expect some fluff to be happening. Frankly I'm getting tired of all the heaviness of the last few chapters. As always, reviews are happily welcomed and if you have an idea you would like to see happen PM me and I'll take it into consideration.**


	12. Bullied (age 12) Part 2

"Shit," Ellie swore, her face turning red as she turned to face her now-furious parents.

"Language Eleanor," Mary reprimanded automatically.

"I repeat," John cleared his throat warningly. "_Why_ does _my_ daughter feel that she needs to be told who her parents are?"

"It's nothing," Ellie said quickly, stumbling over her words. "It was stupid, some kids at school, they were being stupid."

"Is _that_ what happened?" Mary gasped, her anger melting away just as quickly as it had sprung up. "Oh Ellie…"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Ellie shouted, leaping up and racing out of the room.

Sherlock sighed as he watched her go.

"You couldn't wait at least two more minutes?" Sherlock asked, demanded to the still-standing Watsons.

"I told you, you had ten!" Mary snapped.

"What does my daughter need to know about her parentage?" John repeated like a broken record.

"Her school tormentors," Sherlock growled, standing up from the couch and beginning to pace.

Starting from the beginning, he detailed the entire fight to the enraged Watsons, going from Eleanor defending the new student to being verbally abused by the bullies.

"Judging from the ease that her classmates had at finding her tipping point, it is apparent that this is _not_ the first time Ellen has faced trouble at school. It is possibly the first time that Ellen has been physically accosted, but I do not believe that is so."

"In _English_, Sherlock."

"Last month she claimed that the tears and grass stains on her jeans came from falling. She was convinced that she had been bruised at jujutsu practice…"

"Sherlock, are you suggesting that someone was injuring my baby and _you_ didn't deduce it?" Mary asked in a careful voice, her infamous temper on the rise again. Sherlock wisely noticed and took appropriate measures.

"It is _possible_ that I could be wrong," Sherlock said cautiously. "They could be innocent injuries. I am only restating observations that upon further inspection could lead to a greater truth. It is quite possible that she has not regularly been injured and this is the first time."

"_Regardless_," John spoke up, coming to his best friend's defense. "The matter at hand is that we need to do something about her bullies."

"She made me promise to not do anything too rash. She did not specify what would be rational and what would not," Sherlock mused.

"Don't Sherlock. If she thinks you're breaking your word to her she'll never forgive you," Mary warned.

"Well then what would _you_ suggest doing?" Sherlock demanded waspishly.

"Call in an expert?" John spoke up quickly.

"Who? Mycroft?" Mary frowned.

"Not his area," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Lestrade then. He wasn't always an inspector, he worked his way up through the ranks. I think I remember him even mentioning once that he used to work with kids," John said thoughtfully.

Sherlock said nothing in disagreement, so without further delay John grabbed his mobile and gave their favorite police officer a call. Not much later there was a quick rap on the front door before it was thrust open, the smiling visage of Detective Inspector Lestrade appeared.

"So what's the big emergency?" Lestrade asked upon entering the room. "The way you sounded on the phone I half expected to find the flat half burned down and the rest covered in pig carcasses."

"We need some advice on a legal matter," John said, glancing at Mary as he addressed the Detective Inspector.

"Isn't that Mycroft's division?" Lestrade frowned, taking a seat in the living room.

"Bit more personal than that. Schoolyard politics isn't exactly Mycroft's area of expertise," John explained.

"I see," Lestrade nodded slowly. "And I'm guessing this has something to do with Little Elle? Where is she anyways?"

"She's in her bedroom. That's what we need the advice about," Mary spoke up with a sigh.

"Ellen has found herself a set of tormentors. They were especially cruel in their administrations today," Sherlock answered.

"Oh not that mess," Lestrade groaned, dropping his head down into his hands.

"What, you knew?" John near-shouted.

"No, of course I bloody well didn't know!" Lestrade thundered, shooting up to his feet. "You really I think I wouldn't tell you and Mary if I thought she was ever in trouble?"

"That's not what he said," Mary snapped.

"Arguing amongst ourselves is helpful to Ellen how?" Sherlock drawled. John and Mary both took deep breaths, calming their nerves.

"I'm sorry Greg," Mary apologized.

"Yeah, sorry mate…" John trailed off in embarrassment. "It's just…I never thought my own kid would have to be worried about going to school. A threat from the job? Yeah sure, it's happened before and unfortunately there's not much I or any of us can do about it. Nature of the beast and all that. But from school? And she won't even tell us anything," John sighed. Lestrade calmed down as well, understanding flashing across his face.

"You're right, that's a tough spot to be in. Well, I'd say first things first is that I need to hear the entire story from Elle. I _know_ that your observations are spot-on," Lestrade addressed Sherlock before he could have the chance to interrupt him. "But I need to get the facts from Little Elle before knowing what advice to give you. I'm assuming that at the moment you just need me here as an uncle and not as a member of the police?" Lestrade asked glancing to John and Mary.

"An uncle is probably what she needs right now. She wouldn't tell us the full story so I doubt she'd want to talk to you about it in your professional capacity," Mary agreed, sounding thoroughly disheartened.

"Don't take it to heart, Mary love. Lots of kids don't want to talk to their parents about this sort of thing, especially at Elle's age. Trying to be all brave and tough, seem like they're fitting in, when the truth is they're not sure what to do. My guess is she didn't want us to worry since she's _more_ than capable of taking care of herself," Lestrade guessed.

"Close, but incorrect," Sherlock intoned. "She informed me that her concern is more for our collective response to finding out that she is being bullied. She is convinced that we would overreact to the situation."

"What? She thinks we're going to set up a police barricade?" Lestrade scoffed.

"Did the idea not cross your mind?" Sherlock asked dryly.

Lestrade was quiet for a beat before glancing away.

"Right, so we need to get Elle to talk to us. Easy enough. Do you lot mind if I put the kettle on?" Lestrade asked, standing up.

"Fancy a cuppa?" Sherlock asked bitingly, his tone mocking the inspector.

"No, but considering we're trying to attract a Watson a good cup of tea seems like the best way to start," Lestrade retorted smartly, heading into the kitchen and filling the kettle.

"Hmm?" John asked, confused.

"Oh come on John, you know you're like a shark smelling blood in the water when you sense a strong cup of tea," Lestrade chuckled.

"He's right dear," Mary murmured in agreement, standing up as well to go and help Lestrade prepare the tea. Sherlock and John followed soon enough behind. All too soon the comforting aroma of fresh tea began to waft through the flat, gliding the waves of the air conditioning unit and assailing the senses of one tired twelve-year-old.

Hesitantly Ellie opened her bedroom door and stuck her head out into the hallway. There was no sign of anyone. Stepping quietly, she left her room behind, Gladstone padding along after her.

Gladstone had been taking a nap in Ellie's room when she appeared after running from her parents and Uncle Sherlock. He had not been pleased in the least to have his sleep disturbed, but all was forgiven when he saw that it was his mistress who had awoken him. The dog was ready for a long afternoon walk and spending time with his beloved girl. But the girl was tired and weepy, not happy and bright like she normally was. Oh yes, Gladstone was quite worried about his lovely mistress and he would not be happy until he had found what (or _who_) had upset her and given it a firm bite.

"Hello Elle," Lestrade said easily, his tone casual and non-threatening as the twelve-year-old stepped into the room, the other adults having been warned away to Mrs. Hudson's while he talked with her. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"H- h- hi Uncle 'Strade. W-w-when'd you get here?" Elle stuttered, so surprised and nervous by the sight of her uncle. Lestrade smiled at her and grabbed her favorite mug from the cabinet, bright blue and patterned with fluffy white clouds. He poured the tea in, added a bit of milk just like she liked, and passed the mug to her. She accepted it with shaking hands, eyeing him carefully.

"Don't worry dear, I didn't add anything to it. That's your Uncle 'Lock's job," Lestrade joked with a wink at the girl. Elle cracked a smile, remembering the story that her uncle was referring to. As a child it had been fairly regular for one of her parents or her uncles to read over her dad's old blog entries. Hearing all about the old adventures with Uncle Sherlock before The Fall and meeting Mary were some of her favorites.

"Right," Elle nodded. "I remember the story."

"You always were good at remembering those. Gave me grief whenever I got the chance to babysit you. Never satisfied with hearing the same story over again, always having to hear new ones," Lestrade chuckled. "I think I learned more trying to find new bedtime stories for you than I ever did when I was in primary school."

"Really?"

"Of course! You're smart as a whip and me and the rest of the family wanted to do everything we could to help you along!"

"I couldn't ask for a better family," Elle admitted.

" 'Course not. Hey now, drink your tea before it gets cold," Lestrade admonished.

"Oh right," Elle blushed lightly as she took a long sip from her mug. She sighed heavily, the heady aroma and thick taste drenching her senses and washing away the stress of the day.

"There you go. You're just like your dad, he's never completely right after a long day until he's had a cuppa," Lestrade observed. "I still say that's the only reason he never murdered Sherlock when they were flatmates."

"Dad and Uncle Sherlock have really known each other a long time, haven't they?" Elle said softly.

"Well now, Sherlock's known your father for as long as I have. But they're certainly closer to brothers than me or Mycroft are with them. Guess that's the thing about having a real best friend. Someone you can rely on more than family."

"It sounds lovely," Elle said wistfully.

"Gladstone would follow you to death and back," Lestrade pointed out, nodding towards the dog in question who had laid down obediently at Elle's feet while she took a seat at the kitchen table. The dog glanced up when he heard his name, eyeing Lestrade before deciding that no, the silver man was requesting his services.

"I know," Elle sighed, setting her cup down to reach over and give Gladstone's ears a scratch. His tail thumped enthusiastically.

"But it's not the same?" Lestrade guessed.

"Right. Gladstone's not at school with me, you know? Neither's Mum or Dad. No experiments with Uncle Sherlock, no mind games with Uncle Mycroft, no trying to solve cold cases with you…"

"Elle, you know I'd do anything for you, right?" Lestrade asked with a frown. "And not just me, but the entire family?"

"I know."

"Then why haven't you told anyone about how hard it's been for you at school?"

"Because I _know_ that you'd do anything for me. And I know how overprotective you can be. Remember that time after I was kidnapped and at the park?"

"You'd just been kidnapped, of course we were going to be on edge!"

"Uncle Mycroft tried to have the old lady who feeds the birds arrested for terrorism," Elle deadpanned.

"We thought she'd scared you!" Lestrade attempted to defend himself.

"She scared _all_ the kids! That doesn't mean she needed to be harassed!"

"And you don't need to be harassed at school either," Lestrade replied smoothly. Elle's hands dropped to her side, some of her tea almost spilling over.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"You mean Uncle Sherlock didn't tell you everything?" Elle countered petulantly.

"He told me a few things, but I'd rather hear your side," Lestrade said softly, smiling understandingly at his niece. As usual, Elle found herself unable to keep from returning the smile of her kindest uncle. Oh she loved her Uncles Sherlock and Mycroft, make no mistake about that. But Uncle Lestrade was always the one who understood without having to be told that it was necessary to kiss a boo-boo to make it better, who never gave her hot chocolate without adding at least four marshmallows. He didn't panic like Mycroft and Sherlock had when she started her period. If anything he just copied her dad in looking embarrassed and muttering about her needing to go talk to her mum, Aunt Molly, or Nana Hudson. Lestrade wasn't as exciting or brilliant as her Holmes uncles. But there was no denying that he was much kinder.

Elle debated mentally over what she should do while Lestrade waited quietly, knowing that she was choosing her words rather than ignoring him.

"There was a new girl at school today. Dawn Gibson. She's a transfer student from America. Since I didn't have a partner for science Mr. Lyons paired us together. I thought she'd be useless since most of my classmates are. Normally I end up doing all of the work, but she actually helped me. We started talking and she told me that her dad's a physicist working at the university and that's why she and her family moved here. She was really nice," Elle smiled wistfully.

"Sounds like the start of a new friendship," Lestrade observed thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Elle nodded her head quickly in agreement before a frown marred her pretty face. "But then break came…just these stupid older kids. We were just sitting and talking and then these kids came over and started making fun of us. Just Dawn, really. They made fun of her accent, her clothes. Called her a stupid Yank. Silly stuff, but Dawn was really upset about it and they just wouldn't quit. I told them to shut up a few times but they ignored me. Finally I told Dawn that we should just leave, like you and Mum always say. When we tried to one of them pushed Dawn against the building. She hit her head against the bricks and started to cry. They really started laughing at her then and I…I got so mad!" Elle confessed, her hands bunching up into fists and eyes narrowing.

"Did you hit them?"

"No," Elle took a deep breath, calming her temper. "I remembered everything that you and Uncle 'Lock and Dad taught me about fighting. It wouldn't have been fair for them if I started the fight. If I had they never would have beaten me this badly," Elle added in an undertone darkly.

"You can't know that, and I don't want you thinking like that. Your parents let you take those classes for _self-defense_. Not playground fighting. You're better than that Elle."

"I know Uncle 'Strade," Elle sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling sincerely at her uncle. "But it's still a tempting thought."

"Yeah, well. Finish explaining what happened."

"Right. So Dawn was pretty dazed after they pushed her. The two boys kept making fun of her while the girl was egging them on. She was making fun of Dawn too and then it was like she remembered that I was there and…she…she started making fun of me too. Some of the stupid stuff that they always say, stuff that doesn't matter anyway. But then she started on Dad," Elle's eyes darkened as she recalled this part.

"Do you want to talk about what she said?"

Elle barely paused for breath until the words tumbled out.

"She called him a _cripple_. Said that he was stupid, that I wasn't really his kid. That I was a bastard and that Uncle Sherlock was really my father!"

"And then all hell broke loose," Lestrade sighed.

"Exactly," Elle nodded, her eyes darkening with anger. "I tackled her, started punching her…so the guys stopped making fun of Dawn and turned on me instead. They were decent fighters for amateurs, but I still managed to do plenty of damage. It was after I kneed one of them that I got tripped to the ground and they attempted to smash my ribs in. Dawn tried to duck in every now and again to help me, but I could tell she was useless so I kept moving around her, hoping she'd take a hint and get out of my way. When they had me against the wall she really came through, though," Elle admitted.

"It still wasn't a fair fight, but…but it felt _good_ to finally make them shut up," Elle confessed with a heavy sigh.

"Really?" Lestrade asked, quirking one of his eyebrows. "You think beating them up is going to make them stop saying things about you?"

"Well…yeah. I'd never done anything about it before, but I managed to hold my own against some of the toughest older kids. People are going to _have_ to leave me alone now, right?" Elle asked hopefully.

"Or they're just going to get a bigger group of bullies together and fight you even more to try and save face," Lestrade countered. "I can't believe I'm saying this, Elle, but violence doesn't solve everything. Despite all of the adventures that your dad and Sherlock have, trying to find a peaceful solution is always the best answer."

"These kids aren't exactly 'peaceful'," Elle pointed out.

"And you want to sink to their level?"

"Well no, but…"

"No buts about it. You're smart Eleanor Watson. You can find another way to deal with the threat that these kids present. You should have come to us as soon as they started. Does your teacher know anything about this?"

"I…I didn't want to say anything," Elle mumbled.

"So they scared you into thinking no one would listen?"

"Like I told Uncle Sherlock, I'm just the brainiac freak girl who knows more about science than the textbook and who can deduce half of her class with a single look. Mr. Lyons included," Elle added. "Doesn't exactly make me someone that others want to help."

"Except of course for your parents, your other uncles, and me," Lestrade reminded her. "And judging by the sound of things, I'd say that girl Dawn is pretty fond of you. You two watch each other's backs and you should be just fine."

"She's just one person."

"One person can make all the difference. I saw it with your dad and Uncle Sherlock. They made a huge difference for each other. Your dad made Sherlock human, and Sherlock helped your dad come back to life after fighting in Afghanistan. One person can mean the world."

"I guess…" Elle mumbled, not looking totally convinced. Lestrade decided to change tactics.

"As for that comment that one twit made about your parents…I know your mum. She would never hurt your dad like that. And neither would Sherlock. You're smart as a whip, no doubt about that. But considering that we let Sherlock teach you the table of elements to help you learn your ABCs, that's not exactly something you could help. But more than that, you've got the look of your mum and the soul of your dad. Make no mistake Little Elle. You are a Watson."

Eleanor Watson was silent, letting Gregory Lestrade's words wash over her. She finally nodded slowly, a small smile covering her face. Standing up she left her chair behind and went to Lestrade's side, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"Thank you Uncle 'Strade," she whispered, smiling and squeezing him tightly. He returned the hug in kind.

"Anything for you Elle. Anything."

Elle sat back down and they finished their tea in companionable silence. It was after taking the last sip that Elle gave a heavy sigh.

"Do you know where my mum and dad are? I need to talk to them about some things."

"They're downstairs at Mrs. Hudson's," Lestrade informed her promptly. "They agreed to give me a chance to talk to you alone about what happened. You know with those injuries we could press charges?"

"I know. But I don't want to," Elle said softly. "Or at least…only if Dawn's parents decide to. This affects more than just me. She got beaten up on her first day of school. I want to give her the chance to make her own choices."

"What about the choices that _you_ need to make?"

"That's why I want to talk to Mum and Dad. I want to tell them everything and talk about what we can do," Elle decided.

"That's a very mature decision," Lestrade nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. I guess that's another way that I'm a Watson. I'm mature like Dad," Elle smiled softly.

"Oh that's what you think. The stories I could tell you about the pranks your Dad pulled in retaliation of having Sherlock as a roommate…" Lestrade trailed off as they left the Watson flat and walked down the stairs to where Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, and John and Mary Watson were waiting anxiously to hear from their girl.

* * *

**Author's Note: A HUGE thanks to laureleaf for this brilliant idea, the start of the writing, tons of editing, and in-general pure awesomeness. Her work is top notch on it's own, so definitely give her a read as well. Hope you all enjoyed this latest installment, and be on the lookout for later this week for a double Halloween update! Feel free to leave any comments or ideas in the review section or PM me.**


	13. Alphabet (age 2)

It was a calm day at Baker Street. Shocking, and yet not in the least unwelcome to the residents therein. Taking advantage of the calm, John had brought his daughter downstairs to spend some quality time with Sherlock. Naturally though, the detective had convinced John on the importance of running to the shops and that it would be easier to simply leave Ellen with him.

John barely bought this poor attempt of the godfather wishing to spend time with Ellie, but he let it slide. If Sherlock felt like being more human and more humane, well he wouldn't stop him. Besides, John knew that he could trust Sherlock to take good care of Ellie for the hour or so that he would be gone.

"Now remember Sherlock, if she gets fussy just put her down for a nap and she'll be just fine," John repeated for what might be the

"Yes John, I am aware," Sherlock sighed as he listened to his best friend detail the proper caring of the two-year-old girl. At this rate John might as well save his breath and simply write down all of his instructions in a book.

"And if you could go over her alphabet with her that would really be doing me a favor."

"Yes, yes, very well John. Do remember the liver this time. I really do need it for that poisoning case. And some olives."

"Why do you need olives?" John paused in his worried pacing to stop and look at his best friend.

"An _experiment_, John, obviously," Sherlock huffed. "Now go. The shops will not be open forever and the sooner you get there the sooner you shall return and blah, blah, blah…"

Rolling his eyes, John exited 221B, thankful that the detective's shopping list was relatively mundane this time and somewhat calmer in the knowledge that Sherlock really would care for his daughter.

"All right, Ellen, let's work on our alphabet, shall we?" Sherlock smiled down at his goddaughter who flashed a cherubic smile back at him as he picked up the gaudily colored flashcards that her father had forced upon him. He frowned at the garish colors, wondering if they were supposed to act as some sort of stimulant to her mind before filing it away to research later.

Crossing his legs and sinking down to the floor gracefully he held up the first card to the attentive child who watched him with pure adoration.

"'A' is for…" Sherlock began patiently (for him).

"Apple!" Ellen declared proudly

"'B' is for…"

"Bear!"

"'C' is for…"

"Cat!"

"'D' is for…this is ridiculous," Sherlock's patience snapped. "What is the point of teaching you this way? The letter 'A' does not represent 'apple'; it represents the sound 'ah' or 'ey'." Turning to a rather confused Ellen, he smiled smugly. "I think I have a better idea," he grinned, snatching his chemistry book.

* * *

The following day, Mary sat down to go over the alphabet with her daughter. She shuffled the cards briefly to give her child a bit of a challenge before holding up the first card.

"'H' is for…"

"Hy-dro-gen," Ellie sounded out proudly, beaming at her mother. Mary paused, staring at her little girl in surprise. Hesitantly she pulled out the next card, wondering if it would be a one time thing.

"'C' is for…"

"Car-bon."

"'B' is for…"

"Boron."

"'V' is for…"

"Van-ad-ium!"

"John!" Mary called over her shoulder.

"Yeah, love?"

"Did you leave Sherlock alone with Ellie and her flashcards again?"

* * *

For those who are curious, Ellie's new alphabet is Aluminum, Boron, Carbon, Dubnium, Europium, Fluorine, Gold, Hydrogen, Iodine, (no word for 'J'), Krypton, Lithium, Mercury, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Platinum, (no word for 'Q'), Radon, Sulfur, Tantalum, Uranium, Vanadium, (no word for 'W'), Xenon, Yttrium, and Zinc.

* * *

**A/N All rights to this story go to the lovely and talented laureleaf. This is a special present for her, as it happens to be her birthday today and she wrote the majority of this but still gave me permission to post it. As an even better present, she asked permission to use Ellie in her own Halloween story which should be up sometime today! I encourage all of you to go and give it a read. It's called Concerning Hobbits and Halloween Parties. But it doesn't just have hobbits, oh no, it has ALL the fandoms, or I suppose I should say some of the best fandoms. StarTrek, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, and more await in this wonderful story along with an adorable Ellie Watson and an attentive Godfather Sherlock. Again, I greatly encourage all of you to go and read her story as it really is adorable and wonderful. And laureleaf, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!**


	14. Halloween (age 6)

**A/N Fair warning, this is absolute crack. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this, but this is what I wrote and whenever I tried to write something else nothing came to mind. I really don't know what the customs are for Halloween in the UK, but in America it's a tradition to dress up in costumes and go from house to house and ask for candy. One of the best rules for writing is to write what you know, so I'm taking an American stance for this one. Halloween can be a fun holiday for little kids, and I imagine Ellie would have a blast with the dress-up and free candy aspect. For a more 'serious' Halloween story, I recommend writer laureleaf who is using Ellie (with my permission) for her own story entitled Concerning Hobbits and Halloween Parties.**

* * *

"You owe me Sherlock," Mary insisted, shaking the shopping bag in front of the consulting detective.

"Not that much," Sherlock snipped, glaring at the contents of the bag as though he wished that it would catch on fire.

"Oh don't even try that mister. I know _exactly_ what you did to my great-grandmother's china."

"Pure speculation."

"Dying Gladstone pink."

"Absolutely no proof."

"Tearing up my _wedding_ dress."

"I thought I deleted all evidence," Sherlock muttered.

"Aha! You see? You owe me, and what's more, you owe it to Ellie," Mary declared triumphantly.

"And how exactly do I _owe_ Ellen?"

"Fine, whatever, you don't owe her anything. But you do care about my daughter, don't you?"

"You are fighting dirty," Sherlock glared down at the tenacious woman.

"John taught me how," Mary said smugly before adopting a serious demeanor. "Please Sherlock, if you can't take her out then she won't go trick-or-treating at all and she's been looking forward to this all month. Don't break her heart."

"I can take her through the neighborhood without wearing _that_ ridiculous get-up," Sherlock insisted. "Why is this not an option?"

"Because she specifically requested you too," Mary said sincerely, smiling as she remembered the fateful shopping trip with her little girl to find a Halloween costume. Ellie had been so excited to find the perfect dress and the matching costume for an adult. John would have looked adorable in it, but the clinic and hospital needed the both of them. Lestrade was working and Mrs. Hudson simply wasn't able to keep up with the rambunctious child's quest for candy. Sherlock Holmes though…

"She picked this out with _me_ in mind?" Sherlock asked dubiously.

"Well, she originally thought that John would wear it," Mary admitted. "But when she heard that John and I would be working she asked if you would be willing to wear the costume. She has her heart set on the character, and I know she'd just be thrilled if you would agree to do this."

"Still not a good enough reason."

"It's just for one night Sherlock," Mary pointed out before deciding to pull out the big guns. "But I suppose if you can't find it in you to do this one little thing for your goddaughter I could try to ask Mycroft. Although Ellie did specifically ask for you…oh well, maybe I was wrong in telling John that you were perfect as Ellie's godfather."

"How does my refusing to wear that _ludicrous_ costume in any way indicate that I am unsuitable as Ellen's godfather?" Sherlock demanded in an outrage.

"Because when John and I discussed who the godfather for Ellie would be, we knew that it had to be someone that we could trust to raise and take care of her in our stead. I thought that we could trust you to be that for Ellie, if anything ever happened to John or I, that you would do everything for her that we would. Now though, I really have to wonder…"

Sherlock did not interrupt.

"After all, there are only so many times like this to have with Ellie. She's already growing up so fast," Mary sighed sadly, not having to act as a little moisture gathered in her eyes. "These are such precious times for her. John and I try to make the most of it, give her the best that we can, but there are just some things we can't seem to get right. Figuring out our work schedules so that we have plenty of time with her being one of them. I know though, that if John wasn't working he would be wearing the costume in a heartbeat. Just to see Ellie smile."

Sherlock did not say a word for a moment, although a _very_ pained expression crossed his face.

Mary waited patiently.

"It would make Ellen happy?"

"Absolutely ecstatic," Mary replied promptly.

"Give me the costume," Sherlock sighed, extending his hand for the bag. "I will wear it and take Ellen trick-or-treating on Halloween night. You have my word."

"Thank you Sherlock," Mary smiled and stood up on her tiptoes, kissing her husband's best friend gently on the cheek in gratitude before passing the bag to her.

* * *

"Trick or treat!" Eleanor Watson shouted happily, holding out her little basket in one hand, a shepherd's staff clasped in her other three nights later on Halloween.

"Oh aren't you just adorable," cooed the woman who was passing out candy.

"Thank you," Ellie grinned, selecting a piece of candy from the bucket being offered to her. "I'm Little Bo Peep, and this is one of my sheep!"

Ellie turned to smile up at her six-foot uncle, clad in a costume of curly white wool, a stark contrast to his own dark curls. A tiny pink collar with a little golden bell attached rested around his neck, the slight ringing that it emitted with his every movement causing him to wince with pain.

"Oh how sweet. Is that your daddy?"

"No, my Poppa had to work tonight. This is my Uncle 'Lock," Ellie beamed up at her imposing uncle who refused to smile at the woman. She was undeterred though, smiling sweetly at the uncomfortable man.

"Well isn't that just precious. Have a lovely Halloween, dear."

"Thank you!" Ellie said cheerfully before bounding away down the walkway and on to the next house.

"I wouldn't feel too bad if I were you," the woman called out to Sherlock before he went after Ellen.

"Oh?" he paused turning to glance back disdainfully.

"No. My husband's out now with our two little girls. They decided they wanted to be Luke and Han Solo from Star Wars."

"I hardly see the similarities in the situations," Sherlock frowned.

"They convinced him to dress up as Princess Leia," the woman chuckled, shaking her head with merriment. Sherlock winced. Yes, his costume was an embarrassment, but at least he was not submitted to _that_ amount of torture.

_Honestly, the things that parents do for their offspring nowadays, what on Earth possesses them? _ Sherlock thought sourly as he walked with Ellen up to the next house.

"Uncle 'Lock?" Ellen appeared at Sherlock's side, looking up at him with wide blue eyes framed by golden curls and a crisp white bonnet.

"Yes Ellen?"

"You can take the bell off if you want to, I know you don't like it. I just wanted you to wear it so I could always know where you are. I don't want to lose you," Ellen said sweetly, smiling understandingly up at her uncle.

_Oh yes, that's why_, Sherlock thought as he melted a little inside at the tiny cherub in front of him. Keeping an eye on her as she skipped up the path to the front door, Sherlock removed the hideous bit of pink ribbon and silver metal from his neck, tossing it into the nearest trash can as he gracefully followed Ellen, keeping a close eye on her as his little sheep tail waggled with his every step.

* * *

**Another Author's Note: I just wanted to give a fair warning to all of you lovely readers that the next two weeks or so I'm going to be facing an onslaught of projects, papers, and commitments that are determined to eat up every bit of free time that I possess. I will still be writing in order to keep my sanity, but I'm not sure how much I'll be able to post. Please feel free to continue leaving your comments and ideas for future chapters, and even challenges. I will respond as promptly as I am able and get to writing out the drabbles once I have a chance to, but those chances may not happen for a while. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it really has touched my heart to have such a positive response to this story!**


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